


Trial Run

by TallFreak7



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, First Dates, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Arya Stark, POV Sandor Clegane, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TallFreak7/pseuds/TallFreak7
Summary: Sandor never wanted anyone working for him. He never put up a help wanted sign, never put out any posts online, or left any flyers in the street saying he was hiring. And yet she just showed up one day and asked for a job, with nary a resume in sight. Said she’s seen him alone in here before and figured he needed the help. Which he didn’t. He was gonna tell her no, let her know he didn’t need any help, to forget ever working for him, or to just go the fuck away.Instead he hired her. A trial run he called it.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Arya Stark
Comments: 37
Kudos: 164





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey Sandor!” Sandor heard from behind him, making him raise his head from within the hood of the last car of the day.

This has been Sandor’s life for the past 5 years. Ever since his security job with the Lannisters fell apart due to some legal shit he didn’t know nor care about. Only thing he cared about was the _very_ generous severance package he received due to the company folding. With it he was not only able to get the fuck out of Las Angeles, but he was even able to open up his own mechanic shop up north. Sandor had always loved working on cars, restoring or repairing rundown machines and breathing new life into them. He figured since he wouldn’t be caught dead doing security again, and his severance package was so good he wouldn’t be scrapped for cash for a very long time, he might as well turn that hobby into a source of income.

It was supposed to be just him, working on what cars he could day in and day out. He was good at being alone, was basically forced to be due to the burns scars that made up half his maw. He was supposed to spend his days in solitude, just him, motor oil, and multiple tons of metal.

Emphasis on _supposed_.

“It’s closing time man, get your nose out of the gears and let’s start locking up.” Arya Stark pestered as she began lowering the garage door.

Sandor never wanted anyone working for him. He never put up a help wanted sign, never put out any posts online, or left any flyers in the street saying he was hiring. And yet she just showed up one day and asked for a job, with nary a resume in sight. Said she’d seen him alone in here before and figured he needed the help. Which he didn’t. He was gonna tell her no, let her know he didn’t need any help, to forget ever working for him, or to just go the fuck away.

Instead he hired her. A trial run he called it.

He liked to think it was because of her attitude, her confidence to walk up with no introduction or reference. Or her ability to look him in the eyes, almost like his scars didn’t exist or didn’t make him horrifically hideous. He liked to think it was a lot of things.

But he knows it was just because she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his miserable life.

With her fucking big beautiful eyes that were somehow both grey and bright as shit, and lips that looked so damn soft he had to fight not to reach out and touch them. The only thing that held him back from his own vicarial reaction was her age, with her small stature she couldn’t’ have been older than 19. Which was wrong, much to his dread, she was 22. Which is still young compared to his 35, but somehow 4 years makes a world of difference in his head. Now instead of there being some short kid working for him, it’s a petite young woman. And when she started working and actually had the skills to back up all that confidence she carried with her he knew he was fucking doomed.

She was brilliant, even when he had to teach her something she caught on like it was nothing. And they worked well together, her energetic chatty nature somehow working its way under his armor of stoic cynicism. After a year of her constant chatting and questions that for some reason he never found annoying, he felt more comfortable around her then anyone he had ever met. He’ll even crack a joke now and then. A fucking joke! Which is what he feels like whenever he fucking tells one, but then Arya laughs and he stops caring.

“Come on big guy, pick up the pace. I got a hot date waiting for me!” Arya called to him in the back, standing by the entrance door, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Sandor’s hand froze before he could flick the lights off in his office, a heavy weight beginning to drag his heart down into the pit of his stomach. _A date? Of course. Of fucking course she’d have a date, fucking look at her. I’m fucking ashamed of my fellow men that they haven’t snatched up a catch like this woman._

“Oh yeah?” Sandor called back as he shut the lights off and made his way towards the entrance, trying to sound casual and not fucking sad as shit. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“My bathtub.” She laughed, and Sandor tried not to show any relief on his face. “My sister just introduced me to bath bombs and let me tell you, I’ve seen the light.”

“A bath bomb? The fucks that?” Sandor masks his relief with a question as they leave the shop together. Locking the door behind them, Sandor turned and began walking Arya to her apartment. _The Hound: Car Repair and Restoration Shop_ sat close enough to both of their places that neither one drove, opting instead to use the commute as a nice little bit of exercise. Sandor knew that even if it was an hour walk, he’d do it happily just to spend more time with her.

“It’s like this ball of soap and stuff that you put in your bath water and it fills it with sparkly shit and lavender or whatever smell-good stuff they put in it.”

“And you like this shit why?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I am a girl.” Oh, he’s noticed. “We like that type of stuff apparently, must be in our DNA or something. You should try it.”

“Well in case you haven’t noticed, I am not a girl. Only thing in my DNA is motor oil at this point.” Sandor joked, feeling a stupid amount of satisfaction when he hears her laugh.

“Can you even fit in a bathtub? Probably have to get a custom one built to fit you. Have you? I would, seems annoying to have a bathtub that I can’t fit in. Not that _I’ll_ ever know that pain, benefit of being short. Those are few and far between I’ve found.”

She does this a lot, going off on her own little tangents of uninterrupted consciousness. He’s adapted to it by this point, at finding the branch needed to keep the conversation going. “Shower is custom, don’t have a bathtub.”

“You got gypped. What type of bathroom has a shower but not a bathtub?”

“I haven’t taken a bath since I was a child, what the hell would I need a bathtub for?”

“What about when you take a lady friend back home? A bathtub will be very important then, trust me.”

Sandor wanted to correct her, to say there hadn’t been any lady friends since he met her. That no woman he’s met before or since has even come close to her. But he didn’t, because he knew his lot in life. He knew what league an ogre like him existed in, and it wasn’t even in the same universe as hers. He’s big, ugly, mean, and not to mention her boss. But the worst part is somehow, over the course of the last year, this short little thing with way too plump of lips that talks too much and doesn’t even glance at his scars became his best fucking friend. He hated to think what would happen if he actually asked her out. Rejection he knew, but if it ends up making her quit, to run from his presence like he knows she would, then he’d rather keep that shit locked up tight deep in his heart where it’ll never see the light of day.

He didn’t respond to her advice, which luckily is not out of the ordinary for him. He’s well known for being a poor conversationalist, and Arya takes it in stride like she does everything else he’s seen her deal with. Sometimes she’ll ask him a question, sometimes she’ll talk to herself out loud in a way that he knows is open to his input but doesn’t require it, or she’ll just keep quiet and let the silence play itself out. Just another way she seems to just meld into place around him perfectly, and if confessing would cost him this peaceful coexistence then he’d rather rip his tongue out.

As they walked in comfortable silence Sandor looked around at the town that had become his home. A small town in northern Washington, Winterwood didn’t have anything that would make it stand out from the many other towns scattered across the United States, and that was the exact reason he moved here. A town hall, a general store, a few other overall unremarkable stores that included his own, a splattering of houses and apartments, a couple pubs and diners, and two schools; one elementary and the other high school. Anyone who needed to do anything grander such as see a movie or go to a full grocery store would have to take the 30 minute drive through the surrounding woods to get to the nearest city.

Thinking of the town _again_ made him think of Arya, as if it wasn’t for her he would probably never leave his house unless it was to go to work. But she had lived here all her life, knew the place and the people like the back of her hand, so soon after she started working for him she began to just show up at his place, intent on dragging him around town. He thought it was just a ploy to use Frankenstein’s monster to scare some helpless villagers, but after a handful of outings he began to actually enjoy himself, even began to look forward to them. He never extended the invite himself, knew he should, couldn’t bring himself to do it, too afraid she would see through the platonic ruse of the gesture to his real feelings underneath.

He’s was a fucking coward.

Her part of the journey has reached its end, as they both walked up to the entrance to her apartment building. As she entered the building, Arya turned to wave him goodbye. “See you Monday Sandor!”

“Bye.” Sandor smiled at her, the only person he really ever smiled at, before turning to make his way over to his own home.

He was fine with this. He had a steady job doing what he loves, a few nice friends, and a roof over his head. Yeah, he wished things could be different between him and Arya, wished they could be more than just friends, but he also knew her friendship is one of the most important things in his life. She’s changed his life in the short times he’s known her, and he’s just thankful that he chose this town to live in. Otherwise, who knows if he would have ever met Arya Stark.

He’s fine with how things are. He’s happy.

He liked to tell himself that.


	2. Chapter 2

Arya leaned up against the closed door of her apartment and sighed.

“Smooth Arya, smooth. Lady friends? Really?” She asked out loud, banging her head back against the door.

Shaking her head at herself in embarrassment, she striped out of her coverall and tossed it into the hamper with the other 5 she owned.

“I need to get a couple more of those. Just in case.” She said to herself, the same way she has for the past year, and has still yet to do.

Suddenly a generic pop tune crowed from her phone. With a roll of her eyes, she answered it without even looking at the screen. “I don’t know why I let you set your own ringtone in my phone.”

“So that way you know it’s me without having to look” Her sister, Sansa Stark, answered on the other end. “So, how was work?”

“Same thing as always, motor oil and grease. Got to work on a 1970 Pontiac GT--”

“You know that isn’t what I’m talking about Arya. I meant with the massive crush you have on your boss.”

Arya has loved cars since she was a child, ever since her Dad first took her to a car show on a whim. It wasn’t a big leap to transfer her love from looking at them to working on them, becoming a regular visitor to the nearby junkyard to get parts, look at the bodies of deceased vehicles, and learn everything she could from the old man who worked there. She knew from a young age that it’s what she wanted to do for a living, despite her parents’ insistence that it was not a good job or the pay wasn’t enough to support herself or that it wasn’t a job fit for a “lady” like her. She ignored all the naysayers, and came back from college with a degree in Automotive Technology. Which meant nothing, it turned out, when she actually ended up getting a job.

She had been driving back into town, luggage from her dorm still in her car, when she spotted it. _The Hound: Car Repair and Restoration Shop_ , right in town, only a single person working, almost like it was put there specifically for her. And when she got back to her parents to ask them about it, and they had told her it had opened up pretty much the same month she moved to college and never seemed to have a single other worker beside the owner, she immediately ran over and applied.

With no resume, no transcript, and no references. Which she would have talked her way out of when she realized it, would have promised to bring them all in the next day to officially apply. Would have explained she just came back from college and wanted to start working with him. She would have done all these things.

If she wasn’t staring at a Greek god.

Sandor Clegane. Strong nose. Strong brow. Long black hair. Thick black beard. Broad shoulders. Thick arms. Thick legs. Steel grey eyes. The only possible thing that she could see that must have kept him from his obvious destiny as a model was the burn scars that made up 50% of his face. She was able to keep her cool long enough to say her plea, but once her brain caught up with her mouth and she got a good look at him, she clammed up. She thought she was screwed, that he would never hire her, that she would have to go to a different city just to get her dream job.

Instead he hired her. On a trial run he said.

Which she passed with flying colors. She had been working there ever since, finally doing what she loved _and_ getting paid for it.

Now if only she didn’t have such a massive crush on her boss.

“Oh right, that.” Arya muttered, as she moved her way to the bathroom.

“Yes, that.” Sansa laughed. “Tell me again, how long have you been in love with this man?”

“I am not in love with him.” Arya lied, as she began to fill the bath. “And a year.”

“Yes, you are dear sister, and I find it absolutely adorable.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“I’m just teasing!” Sansa insisted, doing bad job of hiding her amusement. “Have you made any progress on asking him out? And on a real date this time, not under the guise of “showing him the town” as you put it.”

“Those were dates!”

“Was he aware of this fact?” Sansa asked pointedly.

Arya hesitated. “Well…”

“Then it doesn’t count.”

“Ugh, what do you want me to do Sansa? I can’t just ask him out.”

“And why, pray tell, is that little sister? I’ve never known you to turn down a challenge.”

“This is different, he’s different.” Arya insisted, repeating the same argument she’s had with her sister for the past year, as she dropped a bath bomb into the water. “He’s like my best friend, no scratch that he _is_ my best friend, if I confess and he rejects me I don’t know what would happen.”

“But he wouldn’t fire you, yes?” Sansa asked, knowing the answer.

“Of course he wouldn’t, he’s not like that. But that isn’t the point.”

“Arya, I don’t know why you seem so hell bent on believing he would not return your feelings. You are a beautiful young woman; he would be lucky to be with you.”

Arya snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, right. Anyway Sansa I’m gonna take a bath, since you got me addicted to these bath bomb things.”

“You are welcome. Good night Arya, and I hope you think about what I’ve said. Love you.”

“Yeah, love ya too.” Arya hung up, staring into the sparkly water of the bath from her perch on the toilet.

She’s not an idiot, she knew she wasn’t ugly. But that is a far stretch away from being beautiful. Sansa is beautiful. Sansa is also 26, with curly auburn hair, pale skin, bright blue eyes, and a willowy figure. Whereas Arya is 23, dark straight hair, slightly tanned skin from working outside for the past year, dull grey eyes, and a small chest with too wide of hips. Sansa looked like a woman, whereas Arya definitely didn’t. And Arya knows that Sandor would want a woman.

Arya shook her head and started taking off her clothes, knowing that she’s had these thoughts for the past year and she wasn’t going to get anywhere with them the say way she hadn’t the last 365 times. With a sigh that almost bordered on a moan she sunk into the sanctuary of the hot water.

Leaning against the back of the tub, Arya let the hot water rob her of the stress of the day. Mostly of working with Sandor and not blurting her feelings out at every opportunity.

God that man is good looking. So tall, so broad, and of course today he decided to wear his low v neck undershirt meaning she got an eye full of the hair on his chest that she’s been dying to run her fingers through, to find out if it was rough or soft. Rough probably. Not like she’ll ever find out. Speaking of hair she wanted to touch, his beard. Thick, but not long. She’s known this about herself for a while now but if there was any doubt left then Sandor threw it out the window; Arya had a weakness for beards. She blamed her upbringing in the North, almost every man she knew growing up had some form of a beard. But now that she was thinking of his beard, she started to think about what it would be like to kiss him. Would his lips be soft? Would the beard tickle or scratch?

Arya dunked her head underwater to try and cut off these thoughts before they get too out of hand. Or to at least get them onto a more innocent path. Like the way he didn’t even get annoyed at her habit of going off the rails in conversations, something that could piss off even those in her family who grew up with it. Yet Sandor, the man people say is cold and cruel, has said nary a complaint of her conversation habits, at times even encouraging them.

Over the year of talking to him (or to herself in his presence), asking questions, answering questions of his, or just working in silence, Arya had found a good friend in Sandor. And she would hate to ruin that just because she can’t keep her mind off him, even when he’s not around.

So, as she had for the last 365 nights, she decided not to ask him out. Despite what Sansa might think, Arya couldn’t imagine Sandor feeling at all the same way towards her as she felt towards him. And if she confessed, actually asked him out, and he rejected her then the well-oiled machine of their friendship would have one big ass monkey wrench thrown into it, and it would all be her fault. She can’t do it, he’s too important, takes up too much space in her heart. If he was ripped out, she’s not sure how much of her would be left.

So, she’ll have to settle for their friendship. Which was great, he’s a great friend and she’s lucky to have him. She’s fine with this. She’s happy like this.

She has to be.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Saturday. No work. No plans. Which, for Sandor, meant either a day spent at home or a visit to the local pub. 99% of the time he just stayed at home. But today he decided to go out, he hadn’t been to his local pub in a while, might as well show his face to let people know he hadn’t kicked the bucket quite yet.

Walking through the doors, Sandor was hit with the smell of cigarette smoke, old beer, and stale peanuts that seemed to permeate from the walls themselves. _The Old Pub_ , as rundown as the name would imply, wasn’t the most popular of the local pub options, which is the exact reason he frequents it. Sandor made his way to the bar, peeling his shoes off the seemingly perpetually sticky floor as he went, and took a seat on the far left. He gestured to the owner, who started making his usual, and began to relax.

Or at least he wanted to, but then the seat to his right was suddenly occupied.

“Sandor.” The man greeted.

“Smith.” Sandor returned, nodding slightly. Smith was actually the man’s last name, but no one actually knew his first name. He wouldn’t tell anyone, and after a time people just stopped asking. Didn’t stop the theories from running rampant across town of all manner of things Smith could be; a secret agent, part of the witness protection program, the god damn anti-christ. Sandor doubted the last one, a middle-aged balding man with a stout belly and nose that had been broken one too many times is probably not the form any deity would choose to take.

“Just the man I wanted to see.” Smith grinned at him as the owner slid Sandor his drink.

“What is it this time?” Sandor grunted, staring down into his drink.

“Well that’s not a very warm welcome.”

“When have I ever been a warm person?” Sandor shrugged as he took a drink.

“Well not to most people, though I know one person who seems to be the exception.” Smith grin seemed to get even bigger at the jab.

“Shut. Up.” Sandor almost growled through his teeth. It was times like these that he really, _really_ regretted telling Smith about this shit going on with Arya. He had a bit too much to drink after one particularly hard day, and Smith asked just the right questions. Never would he get drunk around this man again.

“Alright, alright, calm down man. Just a jape.” Smith mock surrendered, his grin not faltering. “I need you to go pick up a part for me.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I have to work.”

“Work? What the hell do you do for a living?”

Smith just laughed and shook his head.

“Anyway, as I said I need you to pick the part up for me. Don’t worry, nothing illegal.”

“I wasn’t worrying about that until you brought it up.”

“It’s actually some piece of a car. It’s for my Dad, he’s coming to visit and I wanted to get it for him, but the delivery got held up.”

Sandor glanced at him. First time he, or probably anyone, had heard about any sort of family of his. “Dad huh? What’s his name?”

“Smith.”

“Right.” Sandor nodded, taking a drink. He doesn’t know why he even asked.

“So will you do it.”

“Depends, how much am I getting for it?”

Smith looked insulted, which Sandor found almost impressive in its insincerity. “You mean to say you wouldn’t do it out of the goodness of your heart? For a friend?” Smith batted his eyelashes at him.

Sandor starred at him in silence.

“A grand.”

Sandor spat his drink out, coughing to clear his lungs. “Holy fucking shit man, that much?”

“My Dad expects the part when he comes to visit. My Dad is not to be disappointed.”

Sandor felt a small chill wash over him, but ignored it.

“So, will you do it?”

“Will I do it? Of course I’ll fucking do it.” Sandor turned and shook Smith’s hand eagerly. “Where do I have to go.”

“Seattle, guy I know is holding the part for me. I’ll text you the address.” Smith drank his own drink, which Sandor was not sure he had seen him order nor receive, before he turned back to Sandor with another big grin. “So, how goes things with Arya? You ask her out yet?”

Sandor’s monetary fueled good mood scattered to the wind. “Will you shut up already?” He growled, turning back to stare into his drink.

“I’ll take that as a no. I’m surprised, never thought a girl like that would scare a man like you.” Smith chuckled.

“How about I break your nose, would that surprise you?”

Smith sighed. “Sandor, I’ll level with you. You gotta do something about this man, it’s been a full year and you’ve done nothing.”

“There is nothing to do Smith.” Sandor said with a sigh. “You know as well as I do that women like that don’t go for guys like me.”

“Yes, I know that is what _you_ think, but what does the little lady have to say?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Exactly my point, you need to grow some damn balls and ask her out.” Smith insisted, pushing Sandor on the shoulder in emphasis. Suddenly Smith’s eyes lit up, and a shit eating grin grew on his face. “I got it.”

“Got what?”

“I know how we’re gonna deal with this ‘love’ problem you got yourself into.” Smith chuckled, pulling his phone and typing away.

“’We’? _We_ aren’t gonna do anything, keep your crooked nose out of my business Smith.” Sandor threatened.

“Ah ha!” Smith exclaimed victoriously, completely ignoring Sandor. “Here it is, perfect for you and your little grease monkey.” He proclaimed, shoving his phone in Sandor’s face.

On his phone Sandor could see a listing for a car show, focusing on classic and refurbished vehicles. Sandor shoved the phone away with a grunt. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Wow.” Smith said, honest surprise obvious in his voice. “No wonder you’re still single, I honestly feel worse for Arya at this point.”

“Fuck off, find someone else to do your fucking errands.” Sandor downed the rest of his drink and turned to leave. He’ll settle his tab later; the old man knows he’s good for it.

“Sandor wait! Come on man, you gotta learn to take a joke.” Smith called after him, grabbing onto his arm.

“Let the fuck go.” Sandor growled, ripping his arm from his grip. He was in no mood to deal with anymore of Smith’s bullshit. He already beat himself up over his own cowardice, he didn’t need it to become a fucking duet.

“Invite. Her. To. The. Car. Show!” Smith explained, slowly. “It’s in Seattle, invite her to come with you to pick up the part, then go to the show together.”

Sandor looked at Smith is disappointed silence. “That’s your big idea? Why the fuck would I do that? You think she’d want to go through an hour fucking drive with me just to go to some car show?”

Smith laughed. “Yes, yes I do.”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

“And you’re blind.” Smith insisted, waving off his disbelief. “Listen, I’ll tell you what. You go ask her, if she says no then I’ll double my offer. But, if she says yes, then you have to make the trip for free.”

Sandor stared at Smith in shock. “What the fuck, 2 fucking grand just to go get some car part?!”

“So, do we have a deal?” Smith asked, offering his hand.

Sandor looked from him to his hand, eyebrow cocked. “Why? Why risk so much money just for me?”

“Because I know you won’t do it yourself, god knows why, and I also know she’ll say yes so I won’t have to actually pay you.” Smith answered confidently, before his voice became more serious, smile dropping off his face. “And I want you to be happy, Sandor.”

Smith wasn’t a bad guy, a bit on the ugly side (but who was Sandor to judge), liked to hear himself talk, kept way too many secrets, never knew when to let a subject drop, but he wasn’t a bad guy. If he was really willing to risk 2 fucking grand on this, then he must be confident in his chances. But Sandor had never gambled with the man, and he never intended to, so he had no idea how well his gut feelings could be counted upon.

Sandor nodded, taking Smith’s hand in his and shaking it firmly. “Deal.”

“Fantastic.” Smith smiled, his regular ol’ devil may care attitude coming back. “Alright, run along my boy. Go get your girl. And call me when she says yes.”

“ _If_ she says yes.” Sandor reminded, cynicism coming in full force.

“ _When_ she says yes.” Smith insisted right back. “Now come on, money is one the line here man. Chop chop.” Smith began to push Sandor out of the pub, well as much as the average sized man could.

“I gotta at least pay my tab.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll take care of it. Think of it as a professional curtesy.”

“Profession--? Man what the hell do you do?”

“Bye Sandor!” Smith said, pushing Sandor out the entrance doors.

Sandor rolled his eyes, but started in the direction of Arya’s apartment. Now that he was alone with his thoughts the doubts came back in full force.

What the hell is he doing? What, just because Smith says she’ll say yes, he should believe him? Guy could be pulling his leg for all he know. He must be, how could anyone actually believe a woman like Arya fucking Stark would want a mutt like him? With her gorgeous dark hair, gorgeous grey eyes, gorgeous plump fucking lips, gorgeous body, gorgeous fucking everything. Bet if he looked up the definition of gorgeous, he’d find a picture of her. As he should. It still boggles his mind that she’s single, that there isn’t a line of men stretching from here to fucking Rhode Island just to get a chance with her.

This is stupid. He’s stupid for having even listened to Smith. He should just go home, give up on this stupid quest before it even started. Before it really had the chance to hurt him.

His mind was so jumbled with doubt, he didn’t realize he was at her door until he knocked on it.

Sandor snatched his hand from the door as if burnt, but it was too late, he could already hear movement on the other side and Arya’s voice calling for him to wait. Sandor collected himself as quickly as he could before the door opened, giving him a vision of the siren that’s been haunting both his waking and dreaming hours.

“Oh, hey Sandor! What’s up?” Arya greeted cheerfully, leaning on her door frame. She was wearing a pair of black yoga pants that should have been fucking illegal with how well they hugged her legs, strong from standing at work and from her regular bike rides. Unfortunately, her holy hips were being hidden, but the thing that hid them made a good attempt at making up for it. A thick long sleeve shirt that was obviously two sizes too big, it falling off one shoulder exposing her normally hidden pale skin to his hungry eyes.

“Hey. Smith wants me to go to Seattle to pick up part for his Dad.” Sandor started to explain, his heart almost bursting from his chest in an attempt to get away.

“Huh, didn’t know he had a Dad.” Arya commented, eyebrows furrowed.

“Me neither. I was looking up stuff to do in Seattle while I was there,” He lied. “And I saw a car show. Seems to be showing some nice classics.”

“Oh, that sounds awesome. I haven’t been to a car show in ages.”

“Right. So, wanna go?” Sandor finally asked, in a way that would probably make Smith clobber him.

“Go? As in to the car show? With you?” Arya asked, stunned.

“Uh, yeah.” Sandor muttered, rubbing at his neck.

Arya didn’t answer, she seemed to be stuck in stasis staring at him, smothering him in a field of silence that Sandor found unbearable. Sandor knew this was a bad idea, knew this could only end badly. She’s probably trying to think of some excuse to say no, to let him down gently. Why the fuck he decided to do this he’ll never know, and he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.

“Never mind. Dumb idea.” Sandor said flatly, already planning to cancel the whole Seattle errand and telling Smith where he can stick his damn money, as he turned to leave.

“NO!” Arya yelled after him, grabbing onto his arm. “I mean, yes I would love to go with you Sandor.”

Sandor turned back to her, trying to keep the shock at her outburst and her answer off his face. “You would?”

“Absolutely, it sounds fun.” Her cheerfulness returned in full force, hitting him with a grin that made his brain reboot.

“Uh.” Sandor grunted, his mind in a scramble.

She said yes, she wants to go.

Smith was fucking right.

“Great.” Sandor recovered, hitting her with a small smile of his own. “Car show is tomorrow. I’ll pick you up by 9.” Sandor explained with far more confidence then he felt.

“Sounds like a plan, see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow little wolf.” Sandor confirmed, turning and walking away feeling 10 feet tall.

On his way to his house, cheeks getting sore from a smile that he so seldom wore, he called up Smith.

“Sandor!” Smith greeted cheerily.

“You were right.” Sandor admitted, too happy to care about fluffing up the man’s pride.

“Of course I was, I always am. Now, let us talk strategy Sandor.”

“Strategy for what?”

“For your date.”

“It isn’t a date.”

“Yes, yes, but you can still treat it like one.”

Sandor grunted, smile dropping in confusion. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“Simple, your goal is to make her think of you as boyfriend material. Make her laugh, open doors for her, pull out her seat, compliment her, do anything that’ll show her exactly what really dating you would be like.”

“None of that sounds like dating me.”

“Details~. Think of this as you giving her a trial run of what boyfriend-Sandor would be like. She’ll think ‘Wow, so this is what it must be like to date Sandor’.” Smith tried to imitate Arya’s voice but just sounded like a dying rat. “Then it’s just a hop skip and a jump away from wanting to date you for real.”

“That sounds creepy as fuck.”

“Then don’t be a creep about it.”

Sandor sighed, thinking his words over. On one hand it would probably be the closest he’d ever get to actually going on a date with Arya, even if she wasn’t aware of it, something he’d dreamed about for way too long. Which he realized made him sound pathetic as shit. But on the other hand, if the plan backfires, and he ended up just convincing her she really has no business dating a beast like him, he might as well have just ripped his own heart out. If it doesn’t just end up with her quitting, and getting out of his life and away from him.

But Smith was right. This had gone on for far too long. He needed to do something, anything, and it might as well be a chance like this.

“What do you have in mind.” Sandor asked, heart set.

“How about you come back to the pub” Sandor could hear his grin through the phone. “We’ll hash out a plan together.”


	4. Chapter 4

Arya slumped up against her door, eyes wide in stunned silence.

Sandor invited her to a car show.

Sandor. Invited. Her.

Granted this isn’t the first time they’ve hung out together outside of work, they’ve probably been to everywhere in town there was to go more than three times, but Arya had always had to invite _him_ out. She used to worry that she was just annoying him, that he was just humoring her by going along with her whims, which was probably accurate based off his attitude the first time they hung out, but the next time and all the times after he seemed to enjoy himself. Which just made it even more confusing as to why he never seemed to want to extend the invite himself. Until today that is.

“Holy shit.” Arya exclaimed to her empty apartment, running the moment over in her head.

She almost fucking blew it. God how long did she stand there and just stare at him? But could she be blamed? Sandor Clegane himself just invited her out to go to fucking Seattle! With him! She was so thrown off she almost didn’t answer, her mind trying to fathom the moment before it, but when he tried to cancel, obviously embarrassed at her lack of response, her body moved almost by instinct and grabbed on to his arm before he could leave, basically screaming her answer in her panic.

Heaven have mercy, the arms on that man. She couldn’t even get her hand halfway around one of those trunks. Just the thought of what those arms would feel like wrapped around her almost threw her into another catatonic state.

“I gotta call Sansa.”

Her sister picked up quick, cheerful as always. “Hey Arya, what’s up?”

“Sandor just invited me to a car show.” Arya blurted out, partly to inform and partly to convince herself that it had actually happened.

“WHAT!” Sansa damn near bellowed on the other end. “He asked you out on a date?! Oh my god Arya, I am _soooo_ happy for you!”

Arya pulled her head away from the phone to try and dampen the squealing. “Well, I don’t know if it’s a date or not.” Arya corrected.

“… Did he say it was a date?”

“No.”

“Did you ask?”

Arya already knew she would ask that. Didn’t stop her from wincing. “No.”

“Ugh!” Sansa groaned, a loud bang coming from the other line which was probably her head contacting a hard surface. “You two are killing me.”

“But _he_ invited _me_ out this time, he hasn’t done that before!” Arya reminded her, a small amount of pleasure lighting in her chest at the fact. “That’s gotta mean something, right?”

“Yes, yes, that is still a good sign. I did worry about this crush of yours, and how you seemed to be the only one to initiate any social outings.”

“Yeah, I kinda did too.” Arya admitted.

“Alright, I’m coming over.”

“For what?”

“To strategize dear sister.” Sansa explained excitedly.

Before Arya could even ask, the line went dead. She knew there was no point in calling back, sometimes it was better to just let her sister do her thing then fight it, so she returned to her kitchen to finish the lunch she had started before Sandor showed up.

Barely 10 minutes had past when another knock sounded at her door, which was not that surprising; You could go from one side of Winterwood to the other in about half an hour. The door was barely open, Arya’s greeting barely arriving on her tongue, when her sister came barging in.

“Uh, come in.” Arya offered to the intruder, closing the door behind them.

“Thank you.” Sansa nodded as she took a seat on the couch, manners in almost perfect order. “Now, explain to me what the plan is.”

“Uh, he’s coming to pick me up at about 9 tomorrow. We’re gonna go pick up some part for Smith in Seattle ‘cause his Dad is coming into town.”

“Huh, didn’t know Smith had a Dad.” Sansa interrupted.

“Same. Anyway, while we’re there we’re gonna go see a car show together.” Arya smiled, excitement already beginning to build.

“And…?” Sansa prompted, her encouraging hand gesture an obvious sign she expected far more from her lovelorn sibling.

“And nothing, that’s it. Or at least as far as I know.”

“No, no, no. That just won’t do, not at all.” Sansa shook her head in disappointment.

“Don’t know what else you expected here Sansa, he invited me to a car show so we’re gonna go to a car show. That’s it.”

“What about dinner? Or a movie? Or a romantic walk through the park, holding hands under the light of the moon.” Sansa swooned, going off into her own little world.

Arya waved a hand in front of her hopeless romantic sister’s face. “Uh, hello. Earth to Sansa.”

“What? Oh yes, apologies. As I was saying, you cannot let this date—”

“Not a date.” Arya reminded.

“You cannot let this _outing_ end at just a car show.” Sansa corrected. “It’ll probably be a blast for a couple of lug nuts like you two, but it isn’t nearly romantic enough.”

“Not really aiming for romantic here, sis.”

“Yes, that is the exact problem! You should, this could be an opportunity Arya!” Sansa proclaimed.

Arya looked at Sansa, brow furrowed. “I’m not following.”

“Listen, this is the first time _ever_ since you’ve fallen in love with Sandor—”

“Not in love with him.” Arya lied.

“Since you’ve fallen in love with Sandor,” Sansa continued, ignoring her sister. “That he has invited _you_ out, and to Seattle no less which is at least an hour’s drive. If he doesn’t already feel the same way towards you as you feel towards him, which if we are being honest I find quite hard to believe, then use tomorrow to show him exactly why he should.”

Arya collapsed onto the couch. “But how? I can’t just come out and tell him how I feel.”

“I don’t see why not.” Sansa muttered.

“How do I make him think about me that way without completely exposing myself?”

“You need him to think of you differently, so you need to act differently. Compliment his clothes, touch him, and for god sakes flirt with the man.” Sansa commanded exasperatedly, making Arya cringe.

_That_ is a dangerous road to go down, what with her ability to surprise even herself in where her mind takes her when she goes off on one of her tangents, who knows what stuff will come out her mouth that was never supposed to reach another person’s ears. Especially a particular person. A particular 6-and-a-half-foot person.

“Give him a hint of what having you for a girlfriend would be like, a trial run let’s say.” Sansa reached over and squeezed Arya’s hand. “And I’m confident, once he finally gets with the program, he’ll be jumping at the chance to be with you.”

Arya smiled at Sansa in gratitude, glad she had been wise enough to tell _someone_ else about her struggle. Honestly she probably would have lost her mind with this crush if it wasn’t for Sansa. No way could she tell her parents, they’d probably have a heart attack over his age, or his face, or his career (despite the fact they have the exact same job). And her brothers would probably try to beat him up, and get their asses kicked in the process, which would be a little funny admittedly.

She knew Sansa was right. She’s been dealing with these feelings since she met Sandor, and in a year not a single thing has changed. Obviously, her inaction was leading her nowhere. She needed to do something, and this Seattle trip sound like a pretty good opportunity to try and make some progress!

Or horrifically fuck everything up.

Arya tried to ignore that thought. “So, what should I do?”

“Makeover?” Sansa offered, with a hopeful tilt.

“Nope.” A firm denial.

“Oh come one Arya, what better way to make Sandor think of you differently than to look differently.” Sansa prodded.

“That is exactly why I don’t want to do it. I want him to like me for how I normally look, not after I go through the Sansa machine.”

“Fine.” Sansa relented, shoulders slumping. “But I’m helping you with your outfit. And we should discuss what you are to do tomorrow. First, don’t even think of letting the day end at the car show. You guys are in Seattle! Go do something else, something fun, there is bound to be something up there for you guys to do.” Sansa insisted, pulling out a notebook and a pen.

“What’s that for?” Arya asked, pointing at the documents.

“Notes, we’re going to brainstorm ideas of where you two can go.” Sansa answered without looking up, already scribbling down her thoughts. “Then, after the car show, you’re going to recommend each item on the list one by one until one piques his interest. Use it to stretch the time you have together as far as you can.”

Arya wrapped Sansa up in a one arm hug. “Have I ever told you that you are my favorite sister.”

Sansa returned Arya’s embrace. “Being as how I am your _only_ sister, I felt it was implied. But I do appreciate the confirmation. Now, use that brain of yours and let’s get thinking.”


	5. Chapter 5

_“Alright Casanova, you invited her and she said yes. So, what’s the plan?” Smith prodded, sipping his drink._

_“Take her to Seattle, pick up the part, take her to the car show, go home.” Sandor listed off, hiding his excitement under a well-trained look of impartiality. He spoke openly in the empty bar, the only other pair of ears being the old owner. Neither one worried about him, the old man had been on the receiving end of countless drunken secrets he never breathed a word of, what’s one more?_

_“No, that’s an itinerary. I wanna know your plan.”_

_“That is my plan.”_

_“It’s a shit one.”_

_“Fuck off.” Sandor bitted back, which was not a denial and they both knew it._

_“Alright, so you don’t have a plan.” Smith concluded. “So I’ll just go ahead and tell you what **I** think you should do. First of all, don’t you dare go home immediately after that car show. At least take the little lady out to lunch!”_

_“Right, lunch.”_

_“Yes, lunch. Comes after breakfast, I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Don’t worry, I’ve got a perfect place in mind. I’ll pull in a favor.”_

_Sandor eyes shot to Smith’s. “What type of favor.”_

_“Nothing serious, just gonna ask a guy I know to keep a table ready for you two. He’ll keep it the whole day so you can come in whenever and not have to wait. Worst thing to deal with on a date is the lunch rush.” Smith answered, already typing a message on his phone._

_“So we go to the car show, go to lunch, then go home.” Sandor listed off._

_“No, no, no.” Smith admonished. “Don’t let it end at lunch. Find something else to do.”_

_“Like what?”_

_“You’re a smart man Sandor, I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Besides, you’d be able to guess what Arya would find fun far better than I would.” Smith had a small smirk playing at his lips, which Sandor graciously decided not to wipe off with his fist._

_“And remember Sandor, you need to try and change the way Arya thinks about you. You two have been working together for a full year now and nothing even close to romantic has happened, so there are two scenarios here. Either she hasn’t thought about you that way before, which means you need to give her a reason to, or she isn’t interested in you, which would be tragic but at least you get to have a fun trip to Seattle. Silver linings buddy.”_

“Silver linings. Right.” Sandor snorted derisively to himself.

Sandor replayed that conversation with Smith over in his head for probably the 15th that morning as he pulled up to Arya’s apartment. He knew he shouldn’t be that worried about spending time with Arya, he worked with her _alone_ 5 days out of the week, and yet he couldn’t stop a feeling of trepidation from settling over his heart.

Sandor made a final check of his reflection, to ensure nothing was amiss. The same way he had the last 10 time. Yup, still hideous. Why was he even getting his hopes up? He knew how this day was going to go, they’ll hang out like they always do and absolutely nothing will change. No matter how he acts, if Arya didn’t think of him as boyfriend material after all this time then no amount of holding doors or flirty banter was going to change that.

The artificial hope that’s been struggling to maintain it’s footing since this morning finally lost it’s grip, and the cold familiar feeling of reality started to envelop him. This whole plan was so incredibly stupid, he wasn’t sure how he even let Smith talk him into it. At least he got to spend the day with Arya, which is an admittedly big ass silver lining. And it’s been a while since he’d gone to a car show himself, who better to go with then a fellow mechanic?

With his heart set on completely forgetting the entire “trial run” plan, it was as if a weight he’d been carrying the past 24 hours was lifted off his shoulders.

Only to come crashing back down as soon as he finished knocking on Arya’s door.

She opened the door almost immediately, with large smile on her face. “Morning Sandor!”

Sandor would have said something in return, but unfortunately the sight of her robbed his brain of whatever mental capacity it had left. Her shoulders were on display again, but this time her shirt or blouse or whatever the fuck they called it seemed to be designed to do so. The shirt hung just below her belt line, or what would have been her belt line if she wore pants with a belt. Instead she was wearing those god damned yoga pants again, putting her hips basically on display to torture him.

Forcibly pulling himself from his ogling, having no idea how long he basically just stared at her, he was finally able to gather enough brain cells to return her greeting. “Morning. Ready to go?”

“Yup!” Arya nodded looking caught out, for what Sandor couldn’t imagine. She didn’t say anything about him ogling her, which gave Sandor a little hope that he hadn’t just been staring at her drooling like a mangy mutt. Turning behind her to grab her shoulder sling bag, she closed and locked the door before smiling at him as she zipped her keys away. “Let’s hit the road, big man!”

A grunt was the only answer he was able to muster as he led them to his car.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, what are you hoping to see at the show?” Arya asked, breaking the silence they had been enveloped in for the past 20 minutes.

Silence normally wouldn’t be a big deal between the two of them, they’ve had entire shifts where barely a word was traded between the two of them. Unfortunately, this day was anything but normal, as Sandor spent most the time since they left juggling the pros and cons of following along with Smith’s plan. Yes, he had originally given up on it when it was just him alone with his thoughts, but then he saw Arya and a war began. His brain said he should give it up, forget the whole plan before anything even has a chance to go wrong, and just have a fun time with his best friend. Meanwhile his heart was almost screaming at him to take a chance and see what happens, do whatever he has to do if it means there was a chance Arya would feel the same way towards him as he’s felt towards her for so long.

Sandor typically follows his brain; it’s treated him well so far. But the sight of the women in his passenger seat was like a shot of steroids to his heart, giving it the strength to try and wrestle his brain into submission.

And much to Sandor’s anxiety, it was winning.

“Hopefully some good restorations, been a while since I’ve seen some real classics.” Sandor answered honestly, thankful for the distraction from his internal war.

“Yes~, nothing like seeing an old beauty prancing amongst the youngsters, giving them a run for their money.” Arya sighed. Sandor wasn’t sure if Arya swooned, but if she did that would have probably been it.

“That better not have been an allusion to my age.” Sandor jested before he could stop himself, internally punching himself in the face. _Good job idiot, remind her how much older you are. That’ll make her fall for you._

“It wouldn’t be an allusion anymore if I said yes, would it?” Arya teased back, before a strange look came over her face. Before he could observe it any further, she cleared her throat and it was gone.

Not knowing how to continue off that, Sandor got back to a safer topic. “You know, I remember seeing at a show a long time ago a 1969 Dodge Hemi Coronet.”

Arya gasped. “No fucking way. R/T convertible?”

“Yup.” Sandor confirmed.

“No fucking way!” She repeated. “There’s only, like, 4 of those in existence!”

“It’s true. I think I was about 15 or so.”

“That reminds me of when I was 15,” Arya reminisced, eyes lost in the past, while Sandor tried _really_ hard not to remind himself that he would have been almost 30 at that time. “My dad took me to car show and there were all these super clean Mustangs. Nothing like a good muscle car, especially a classic.” Arya turned to him again and smiled. “Did your Dad take you to that car show?” Her eyes immediately went wide and he could already see the apology forming in her head.

If there is one thing he did not like to discuss, it was his family. But Arya was different, not the first time she’s asked about his family accidently or otherwise, so Sandor kept his cool. As far as he’s concerned, they could all burn in hell. His only comfort was the fact all of them were dead so his prayer had a good chance of coming true.

Sandor answered before Arya could formulate her apology. “Nah, by that point I was basically living on my own. Went myself.”

“Ah.” Arya said quietly.

Scrambling quickly to change the subject, Sandor’s heart took control of the wheel. “That a new shirt?” Immediately throwing his brain into a panic.

_What the fuck? You might as well have said you were checking her out you creep._

“Well kinda.” Arya answered without missing a beat, picking at the shirt in question. “I got it a while ago with Sansa but haven’t worn it yet. It’s for special occasions.” That admission seemed to be accidental, as her eyes went wide again before she quickly turned to look out the passenger window.

Sandor almost swerved the car into oncoming traffic.

_Special occasions? This is a special occasion to her? What does that mean?!_

That seemed to be all his heart needed to finally win the brawl, reigning victoriously over his brain for the first time since he first hired Arya. Even if he was reading too far into her statement, which he 100% was.

Sandor could almost hear Smith screaming at him to _compliment her you son of a bitch._ “Well it looks— **you** look nice. In it.”

_Fucking smooth._

Arya glanced back to him and smiled, and Sandor couldn’t be sure but he thought he might have seen a blush making its way onto her cheeks. “Thanks. You too.” Arya scrunched up her face in displeasure, before her mouth launched off. “I mean, you look nice too, in your shirt. And your pants. Which most people would just call an outfit, yet my brain decided it was too good for that apparently.”

Sandor laughed a little, which sounded more like a bark. His Hound moniker always was accurate. He glanced at himself, to remind himself what he even had on. A typical Henley long sleeve shirt with the top two buttons undone, and some dark jeans. A typical Sandor outfit if there ever was one, his signature outfit if he was on a kid’s cartoon. Not that they would add him to the roster, too much swearing.

“Thanks.” Sandor nodded before his brain could continue its Arya-like tangent.

They fall back into a familiar silence, though this one feels more comfortable. Less stressful, the war raging within him had ceased with his heart as the victor. No more debating whether to go through with the plan or not. He felt relaxed, calm. Until he checked the time.

9:46am. Just under 15 minutes. Less than 15 minutes until they get the part for Smith, then the rest of the day is up to them. Or more specifically, him.

And the stress comes rolling back like a tsunami.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long delay with this chapter, I tried to keep myself about three chapters ahead of what I've posted to have a buffer in case I ran into writers block like I did with this chapter, but the writers block lasted longer then I thought it would and with work and friends I really only have time to write on the weekends (Also the fact that I keep thinking up one shot ideas doesn't help).

9:46am. Little less than 15 minutes until they arrived. Little less than 15 minutes until the extensive list of possible activities within a 20-mile radius of Seattle, which was currently burning a hole in her pocket, could fulfill its purpose.

And yet all she could think about was her absolutely _idiotic_ attempt at flirting with Sandor.

_You look nice in your shirt and pants? What the hell am I, an alien with no concept of what a fucking compliment was?_

But she gave herself a little bit of leeway, her brain had been assaulted by an unprecedented amount of stimuli. First she accidently talked about the shirt she only wore for special occasions, which she was currently sporting, thus revealing to him how special this day was to her. She damn near jumped out the car. Next he fucking complimented it, and her! Her brain blew a fucking gasket, and she hoped that the slight tan from working in the garage had hidden the damn near full body blush that she was no doubt sporting.

But the worst of it all, the thing that was really fucking with her equilibrium, was his proximity. God have mercy this man smelt good. A combo of pine and a small hint of motor oil, a smell she had gotten accustomed and addicted to over the past year. But that was normally out in the open, where the smell would typically be diluted before reaching her. Not here, not in his truck, nope she was being hit with the full force of Sandor-scent and her brain was lagging. Her body wasn’t, oh no her body knew quite well what it wanted to do, or more specifically _who_ , with this new information, which was _not_ part of her plan.

But could you blame her when she was less than an arm’s length away from such an absolute specimen of masculinity?

“Welcome to Seattle.” Sandor’s voice ripped her out of her lust fueled thoughts.

Arya looked out the window, expecting to be surrounded by the high-rise buildings and fast-moving people of the city, only to be met with a regular old residential area. “Wait, we’re not gonna be in the actual city?”

“Nope, guy with the part lives in this neighborhood and the car show is about 5 minutes away.”

“Boo.” Arya protested.

Arya expected the two to fall back into the silence, the same way they had since The Disaster, as she was now calling it, came out of her mouth. But she could see Sandor mulling over something out the corner of here eye.

“We can stop in there if you want.” Sandor offered gruffly with a shrug.

Arya whipped her neck around so fast she almost pulled something. “Really?” She asked, the one sane brain cell left in her head cringing at how eager she sounded.

“Don’t see why not.” He nodded, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he hadn’t just said, with the calm and cool attitude she’s come to know from him, something she had been struggling this whole car ride, hell the past 24 hours, to word or gather the courage to ask herself.

Arya smiled and nodded. “Cool.”. Which was a massive understatement.

Sandor pulled up in the driveway and turned to her as he shut the car off. “Gonna go talk to him and get the part, shouldn’t be long.”

“Alright.” Arya nodded, fighting very hard to not grin like a mad woman at him as he left and not at all sure she succeeded. Once he was inside the house, she quickly pulled out her phone. “I gotta tell Sansa.”

sansa, the plan is a go

i repeat; the plan is a go

**You already asked him to extend the day?**

didn’t need to, he asked me!

basically the minute we reached Seattle

**Well now I wonder why he would do that**

**Could it be he actually has feelings for you**

**Like I’ve been saying he does**

**For the past 365 day?**

**Could that be it?**

now hold your horses missy

that’s a big jump you’re making there

**It absolutely is not**

is

**Not**

**Arya, you know what this means don’t you?**

i want to say i do

but i have a feeling i do not

_I am assigning you a new goal_

oh no

teacher-sansa is back

i thought i banished her to the shadow realm

**And she only came back stronger**

**Now, back to business**

**New goal**

**Sandor beat you to the punch on the last one**

**This has to be a big one to make up for it**

i don’t like where this is going

**You must kiss him**

**By the end of the day!**

sansa, dear

have you been drinking?

is that why you are saying dumb things?

**Oh no my lovely sister, I am quite sober**

ah i see

so you have finally snapped

i can’t believe the day has come

i never thought it would be you

i always thought i would be the crazy lady of the family

**And you may still have that honor for I am still quite sane**

i would beg to differ sister

for i believe you just told me to try and

KISS

sandor

**You are correct**

**And I meant it**

okay, getting serious here

how the hell does that escalation even make sense?

we go from extending what could very well be a purely

platonic outing to making out with the man?!

do you understand the whiplash you gave me here sansa?

i can feel the pain

i will need medical attention

**I did not say anything about making out with the man**

**Though it is quite interesting where you brain is at after just a car ride with him**

in my defense…

he’s really hot

and smells way too fucking good

**I will take your word for it**

**Now, about that kiss**

oh you mean the kiss that won’t happen?

the imaginary one?

that kiss?

**Oh no, not that one**

**I can see how you would get the two confused**

**But no**

**I am referring to the very real kiss you will have with him**

**By the end of the date**

i feel like there has been some miscommunication here

this whole day was just to try and get sandor to even think of me romantically

how the fuck am i supposed to lead from that

TO A GODDMAN KISS?

*goddamn

**First of all**

**Language**

**Second of all: Of course, that is still the first priority**

**And obviously don’t force it on the man!**

**But**

**if the mood is right**

**And he’s looking at you in just the right way**

**(And you have a step ladder)**

**Then pucker up sis and lay one on him!**

wow

im actually impressed you managed to type all that

sober

and still put in a jab at my height

i would applaud you

but my brain is currently at max capacity

**Imagining yourself kissing Sandor?**

I will neither confirm nor deny that theory

**And thus providing me with all the confirmation I need**

ugh

whatever

sandor is coming back now, i’ll text you later

**Good Luck!**

Arya sent off a final thumbs up to her sister as Sandor tossed the package into the back seats, before he buckled back up. “You ready?” Sandor asked, a tragically rare smile on his face.

“Absolutely.” Arya smiled, trying very hard to not look at his lips and imagine them on hers.

\------

“Fucking finally.” Arya groaned, unbuckling her seatbelt and quickly scrambling out of the car. She stretched towards the sun, thankful to finally be able to stand again, and took a deep breath of the crisp newborn spring air.

“That eager to get away from me, eh?” Sandor chuckled from behind her.

Arya looked over her shoulder to see Sandor leaning over his truck to watch her. “Hardly. Thought we’d never get through that line.”

Sandor grunted as he pushed off the car to make his way over to her. “Lots of people. Show must be good.”

“It better be.” Arya grumbled as they walked the trail.

The show was taking place in a large grassy clearing, right next to a local park. The trail, being the only path to the show that didn’t involve walking boldly through the surrounding woods, was quite crowded with fellow vehicle enthusiast, all eager to see the art on display. So crowded, in fact, that the two of them began to be squished together as they made it closer to the show. Arya couldn’t pretend to be annoyed, happy to be able to touch Sandor anyway she could. Sandor clearly didn’t agree, as he moved her to walk in front of him to avoid the crunch, much to her disappointment.

Disappointment that was immediately forgotten when he rested his hands on her waist, his grip firm.

Arya commended herself for not tripping over her own feet.

The action could be read as innocent, he probably just wanted to make sure they didn’t get separated in the crowd. But if that was the case, he logically would just grab onto her shoulder. Did he purposely go for her hips, wanting to touch her as much as she wanted to touch him?

God his hands were warm, even through her shirt. Which was a dangerous train of thought, as it only succeeded in making her think about how his hands would feel if the shirt wasn’t in the way.

Before her brain could get ahead of itself, they breached the line of trees and finally made it to the show. Even from where they stood, on the very outer ring of the clearing, Arya could see this show was big. Columns after column of classic cars, restored cars, modern muscle, and exotics vehicles filled the area, each car paired with proud owners perfectly willing to sit you down and explain to you the minutia of why their particular piece was the queen of the lot, or what they had to do to get her roaring like the beast she was. Beside them were the vendors, tables upon tables of license plates, model cars, key chains, necklaces, knifes, and other knickknacks, a random assortment of items that would make no sense anywhere else but amongst fellow wheel heads.

“Ah, heaven.” Arya sighed, causing Sandor to chuckle behind her.

But that was all he did. He didn’t move, neither his feet or his hands that were wrapped quite nicely around her waist. She knew she should be the one to lead them into the fray, she was quite literally standing in front of him, but she couldn’t bring herself to go. Now that they were no longer constrained by the will of the forest, the crowd was dispersing every which way into the sea of motors on display. Which means there was no reason for Sandor’s hands to be glued to her waist the way they were. And yet they were, and they felt so nice. She didn’t want to follow her fellow show-goers, just in case moving would break the spell they both seemed to be under.

Arya opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What would she even say?

_What are we doing Sandor?_

_What are we Sandor?_

_Please never take your hands off me Sandor._

Sandor moved closer; subtly but since her senses were focused entirely upon him it was easily noticeable to her. Then his thumb started to move, slowly circling on her back, and her breath started to labor. The heat, that had originally been content to rest under his palms, had started to spread throughout her whole body. She needed to do something, anything, before she lost her mind completely, but the only thing she could think to do was raise her hands, slowly, with the aim of locking his hands exactly where they were.

But before her hands could finish their trek, she heard a loud grunt come from behind Sandor.

“Hey move it asshole!” The man growled, obviously having a death wish.

And suddenly Sandor’s hands were gone. The loss of contact caused Arya’s senses to come crashing back into the station, and with them came both a feeling of embarrassment at her almost primal reaction to his touch and a profound sadness that almost drove her to grab his hands and put them back where they belonged. She didn’t, of course, but she wanted to.

The man walked by, shooting them both a dirty look, keeping his life only because Arya was too focused on what the fuck just happened.

Now that her brain was operating again, she tried to take stock of the situation and reign in her rebelling thoughts.

 _Okay, so he held your waist as you guys walked the trail. Weird? Sure, but it doesn’t have to mean much beyond that. And the only reason he stood there was because I wasn’t moving. He probably was wondering what was wrong with me. Hell, him rubbing my back like that was probably supposed to be comforting._ Arya closed her eyes in despair. _God, I’m actually an idiot._

She needed to get this under control, Sansa’s text got into her head and now she was reading way too far into everything Sandor does. She couldn’t let her overactive imagination ruin the day before it even began.

After her quick internal chastising, she turned and smiled at Sandor, intent on forgetting the embarrassing moment even happened. “Come on big man, let’s go.”

Sandor stared at her, a look on his face that she wasn’t able to place. She saw his hands flex slightly, but then he nodded. “After you.”

She nodded in return, convinced the moment had been almost entirely in her head, before leading him into the crowd.

\------------------

“Oh my god Sandor, look at that one.”

This line has been spoken by Arya at least 100 times by now, and it was only noon. But she couldn’t help it, there were so many gorgeous cars here, all with their own style and story. Stories she was almost too eager to hear. If it wasn’t for Sandor corralling her, good naturedly, away from the first car they came upon she probably would have talked shop with the owner and his husband until she was blue in the face.

Arya ran off towards the car she had pointed out before seeing if Sandor had even looked, her small stature giving her an advantage in crowds such as these, allowing her to slip through with relative ease unlike her height gifted friend.

The feelings she had by standing in front of the beast was the same she’s felt with all the others, yet it never got old. The awe, the reverence, she felt towards cars was something she prayed she never grew out of.

“Howdy miss.” The owner greeted, with a distinct southern twang, from his lawn chair as he tipped his hat.

“Howdy.” She returned, tipping an invisible hat of her own. “She yours?”

“That she is.” The man confirmed, patting his prize warmly. “Restored this here girl myself.”

“1967 Ford Shelby GT500.” Arya sighed, running a finger lightly over the intake system in the open hood. “Man, they don’t make them like they used to.”

Before she could start her typical interrogation about how he restored her and what parts did he use and where he got her, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned with a grin, expecting to see Sandor’s exasperated face and mirth filled eyes.

Instead she met the blond hair, blue eyed, cocky grin sporting face of a man she didn’t recognize.

“Heya good looking, what’s your name?” The stranger said, smooth as butter.

“None of your business.” Arya remarked coldly, arms crossed, mood ruined. _Great, now I gotta deal with this shark._

“Oh ho, I’d say it is. Now I ain’t ever seen a woman look like you and be into cars like that.” The man continued, ignoring her obviously warning tones and clear signs of disinterest. “So I reckon I had to introduce myself. Name’s Clint”

_More like cunt._

“And I’m not interested.” Arya rebuked, a mocking smile on her face.

“Now don’t be like that.” The cunt continued, undeterred. “I see you’re alone; I reckon you’d like some company at this here show.”

“Well, you’d be wrong.” Arya scoffed, leaning away from this man who obviously couldn’t read social cues. Well, the nice way isn’t working. _Gonna have to knock this guy down a few pegs._

Before she could contemplate the verbal lashing she was about to dish out, a large dark shadow covered both of them and a loud rumble came from her right.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A familiar voice rasped overhead. She looked up, expecting to see the comfortingly familiar face of Sandor, but his expression was one she had never seen before. She had seen him angry plenty of times, whether at some dumb kids in town who had egged his car or a customer who refused to pay, but she had never seen him look like this. He was murderous, if his eyes could kill Clint-cunt would be dead where he stood.

_What the fuck did this guy do to get Sandor so angry?_

“I reckon that ain’t none of your business now is it?” Cunt-clint asked, turning to Sandor with his cocky grin still in place, obviously not understanding the concept of weight classes.

“It is when you’re talking to my women.” Sandor growled, leaning right into the Cunt-cunt’s face, which was convenient as it covered the gasp of shock that forced it way out of Arya’s mouth.

_My women. My women. His women. He said that. I heard it clear as day. He just said I was his women. Holy shit._

Cunt boy laughed right in Sandor’s face. He laughed so hard he had to lean on his knees for support, his laugh turning some heads of the surrounding crowd. He came back up for air, a cruel grin on his still wheezing face. “Oh man, that is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day. Her? With you?” Leading him into another fit.

Arya could see Sandor’s jaw tense, see his hands flex, and just knew that if she let this man say something else it would probably be the last thing he ever said.

“I don’t see what’s funny about what _my_ _man_ said.” Arya remarked casually, effectively shutting the human squeeze toy up. His eyes widened, glancing between her, Sandor, then her again before laughing even harder than before.

“No way.” He wailed, slapping his knee. “You mean to tell me your knocking boots with this freak?” He wiped at his eye, having the time of his life. “God damn girl I knew you were special, just didn’t know I meant special ed.”

Well, she tried.

Sandor grabbed him by his collar, hauling him up until his feet barely touched the ground, and roared right in his freckled face. “If you ever talk to, about, or around my women again I will rip that tongue you love to wag so much right out your mouth and make you choke on it.” Sandor leaned in close, making sure the troglodyte saw he meant business. “Do I make myself clear?”

CC nodded frantically, and the moment Sandor released him he scrambled off, no doubt aiming to harass some other women the same way he tried Arya.

“Fucking cunt.” Sandor growled, still standing close to her. He looked at her, anger replaced with concern. “You alright.”

Arya smiled back. If she had any doubt about her feelings for him, hearing him call her his women cleared those right up. She knew now with absolute certainty; she wants, no, _needs_ to hear that from him again, but next time she wants him to mean it. “Absolutely, thanks to my knight.”

“I’m no bloody knight.” Sandor scoffed predictably, a smile fighting at his face.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the long wait for this chapter. I don't want this story to turn into a biweekly thing but it is looking like that might be the reality.

“I’m no bloody knight.” Sandor scoffed, fighting against himself not to smile at their well tread banter.

A knight wouldn’t have these feelings for his charge. A knight wouldn’t fuck her with his eyes the entire car show, following behind her slower than normal just to watch her ass in those yoga pants. A knight wouldn’t wrongly claim her in the eyes of others. A knight wouldn’t fucking grope her waist, only being stopped from pulling her back into him by the collision of a stranger.

No, Sandor was no knight. Not even close.

“Ser Sandor Clegane, the most honorable knight in the seven kingdoms.” Arya exclaimed dramatically, curtsying at him with an invisible dress.

“Bugger all that.” Sandor waved off her theatrics, laughing despite himself. “Don’t got an honorable bone in my body.”

An honorable man would at least be ashamed of watching her.

“This coming from the man that just saved me from that cunt?”

Sandor shrugged. “Not like you needed me to get rid of him.”

“Then why’d you do it?” Arya asked, eyes narrowed and arms crossed.

Sandor shrugged again and looked away. “Didn’t like the look of him.” Sandor rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before continuing. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“What?” Arya asked, faux irritation completely gone. “Sandor I’m not actually mad. Besides it was kinda funny, I half hoped he was gonna piss his pants when you picked him up.” Arya grinned reassuringly.

Sandor sighed, glancing at her but still not fully looking at her. “Not that.” He grimaced, remembering his own words. He didn’t know why he had said what he did. No, that’s a lie, he knew exactly why he said it. He was jealous, which if being jealous over some lout of a boy talking to his best friend wasn’t that saddest thing ever he didn’t know what was. “For calling you my woman.”

Arya tiled her head, eyebrow raised. “Why are you sorry about that? I’m not.”

Sandor whipped his head back to look at her but she was already back to talking at the old mustang owner, intent on continuing her interrogation, like she hadn’t said anything.

 _What the hell does that mean?_ Sandor silently asked at her back.

But he would gain no answers, as Arya would continue her whirlwind pace around the show, bouncing between vehicles with the energy and zeal that only youth would allow. Which just helped in making Sandor think how much of an old creep he really was, lusting after a girl 13 years his junior.

“Hey Sandor, let’s go check out the vendors. Might find some treasure.” Arya suggested after looking at what felt like all the cars in the lot, running off before he could even respond.

“God damn it girl, would you slow down.” Sandor growled after her, pushing his way through the crowd to ensure he didn’t lose sight of her.

Arya stopped and sighed. “Would you speed up? Use those long legs god gifted you and pick up the pace!” Arya looked up at him as he caught up to her. “I always thought you’d be good at football, but if you can’t even keep up with me--”

“Don’t do that girl, you don’t wanna play that game.” Sandor warned.

Arya eyes narrowed, and a smirk slowly growing on her face, which Sandor knew could only mean mischief was working itself out in that pretty little head of hers. “Race ya?” Arya taunted, eye brow cocked in challenge.

“You’re asking for it now girl!” Sandor playfully growled, causing Arya to run off cackling.

Sandor barreled after her, using his bulk and height to easily bulldoze through the horde, leaving in his wake a crowd of very unhappy show goers. Meanwhile, Arya was easily able to slip thought the cracks of the mob, using her much smaller and more nimble form to her advantage. Strength vs agility, a struggle as old as time. And it seemed agility would get the win today, Arya’s ability to skate around obstacles granting her the advantage in this dense arena. Unfortunately, there was one aspect of strength that agility always underestimated, a raw feeling ingrained into our beings since the primal days.

Fear.

For as those behind Sandor could feel the after effect of standing in his way, those ahead of him could learn from their fallen brethren that it would be best to move out of the path of the damn near 7 feet tall, 210 pound, heavily scarred threat charging right at them. And so they did, the crowd in front of Sandor dispersing like water, allowing him an almost unimpeded path to his goal. Which he took full advantage of, using his longer stride to easily catch up to Arya.

Arya looked over her shoulder, hitting him with a grin that damn near blinded him. There they both were, full grown adults running through the crowd like children, and if Sandor had any doubts left that he loved this woman they were completely squashed when he returned her grin with one of his own, feeling no shame for the spectacle they were creating.

She probably expected him to overtake her, which he easily could have. With nothing in the way, his height alone would allow him to get past her and get to the vendor far before she did. But that wasn’t his real goal, oh no. He had a point to make. _She says I wouldn’t be good at football? Let’s see if I can change her mind._

Before Arya could react, Sandor quickly wrapped his arms around her, picking her up and continuing the trek without even missing a step.

“Ah!” Arya screamed, lightly slapping at his arm in feign protest. “Sandor! What the hell!” Her indignation was hard to hear through her sputtering laughter.

“I’d say that was a pretty good tackle don’t you think?” Sandor rasped.

Arya laughed loudly, any wish to pretend to be put out gone. “Yes, I’d say your football career is quite promising. Forgive me for selling you short.”

“You’re forgiven.” Sandor laughed in return as they finally made it to the first in the line of vendors. “Keep this in mind next time you wanna call me slow.”

“Yes sir.” Arya agreed with a mock solute, eyes crossed. Sandor could only shake his head and laugh as he dropped her back to her feet.

As they caught their breath after the surprising bought of exercise, Sandor looked over to see Arya already watching him. She smiled when their eyes met, but then Sandor’s breath caught as her eyes flicked to his lips and she bit her lip. Sandor blinked, trying to clear his eyes to make sure he wasn’t imaging what he thought he saw in her eyes. He thought he might have seen desire, even want. But he unfortunately wasn’t able to focus on that for long, her habit of nibbling on her lips drawing his attention down to those things that had doomed him from the start of this blessed relationship. _God, I want to kiss her._

“You make such a cute couple."

They both whipped their heads around, the older woman manning the stall in their crosshairs. Sandor opened his mouth to deny it, to clarify they were just friends, but nothing came out. He knew he needed to say something, but some small part of him wanted to just keep quiet about it. To hide the truth and just pretend, for a second, that they were together. That his feelings were mutual, and he didn’t have to concoct a stupid ass plan just to try and get her to notice him.

“Oh no, we’re just friends.” Arya’s voice cut into his fantasy, like a cold bucket of water waking him from a dream.

Sandor grunted his response, not trusting his voice.

“Ah, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to assume.” The old women explained. “You just seemed so close.”

“Yup, best friends.” Arya grinned up at him. Sandor impressed himself by being able to return at least a small smile himself. Despite the fact he felt like a knife was just plunged into his heart. “So what ya got here?”

The vendor looked between them, a slight look of disbelief on her face, before she began talking to Arya about all she had to offer. Sandor wasn’t paying attention, too distracted by Arya’s words.

_She said we’re just friends. Just friends. She doesn’t see us as anything more, and why would she? I’m a fucking old ugly dog, and not to mention her fucking boss. There isn’t a stone’s throw in hell she would want a brute like me. God, I’m a fucking idiot. And a creep, she’s been thinking of this as just a fun day out and all I’ve been doing is lusting after her._

Her statement was like a wake up call from the delusion he somehow worked his mind into believing. This plan of his was always intended to be a hail mary, a final ditch effort to get her to notice him, to see him as something more than just her best friend. And unfortunately, his pass landed far off target. He had to give up on her, on any hopes he had of being with her, a fact that made his heart constrict in his chest.

It sucked, it really fucking sucked, to love a woman so deeply and know she’ll never feel the same towards you. To have her haunt your dreams and thoughts and know you’ll never have her. To work with her, everyday, to have the honor of being called her best friend, and knowing it’ll never be enough. He’s known all this, even before this stupid plan was planted in his head by Smith, but he always had the smallest of hopes in the back of his head that something would happen to change things. That she would actually feel the same way, if he just waited. That hope was dead now, dead and buried. Leaving him alone with just reality; she doesn’t want him and never will. And he just has to live with it.

But it’s all he has now, this friendship of theirs. The only connection that will ever be between them, and he’ll savor it like a thirsty man savors water.

“Sandor!”

Sandor snapped back to reality, turning to see Arya had moved on to the next vendor already.

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” Arya called out.

Sandor shook his head as he made his way back to her. “Thinking about lunch.” Sandor lied, any appetite he might have had was as dead as his hopes and dreams.

“Ooh, now that you say that I’m feeling kinda hungry myself. Got any ideas?” Arya asked, glancing down at the table in front of them to browse the model cars.

“Yeah, I got a place in mind.” Sandor nodded, trying not to let his heart break show in his voice.

\----------------

“Wow, I’m surprised we got in so fast. This place is packed.” Arya commented as she looked around at the packed restaurant.

Sandor only grunted in response, not willing to share that this table had been open all day just for them. A favor from Smith for a plan already deemed a failure

The place was as nondescript as a restaurant could get, it’s furnishings and style blending in with the countless other nearly identical diners across the country. Nonetheless, the people flocked. Probably helped by the fact it was less than 10 minutes away from the show. Many of the people waiting on a table were probably fellow show goers, most of which they passed right by on their way to their reserved table.

“For such a boring looking place, there are a lot of people here.” Arya continued across the booth they were seated in. “Think we stumbled upon a local treasure?”

Sandor grunted with a shrug, looking at the menu but not comprehending a word of it.

“How did you hear about this place anyway? I bet this place wouldn’t even show up on google.”

Sandor grunted again.

“Hey!” Arya called, forcibly pulling his menu down.

Sandor finally looked at her, using all his training from security to keep his face as neutral as possible.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been kinda weird since we left the show.” Arya asked, the concern on her face finally pulling him out the funk he’s been swimming through since those three deadly words slipped through those lovely lips of hers back at the vendor.

Here he was, feeling sorry for himself because he deluded himself into ignoring something that was staring him in the face, and all he had to show for it was a worried Arya. He needed to get a grip on himself, lock that despair deep, deep, deep down in his heart, right there next to his feelings for her. At least until he gets home, there he can scream and cry and break things to his heart’s content, or until he’s finally empty inside, whichever comes first.

He forced a smile on his face, mask the turmoil in his heart. “I’m fine, looking at the menu.”

Arya searched his eyes, for what he didn’t know, before nodding and gifting him with a smile he didn’t deserve. “Trying to decide between chicken and chicken? What a difficult choice.”

“Lot’s of ways you can prepare chicken.” Sandor pontificated, glad to move on to safer topics. “Boiled, braised, roasted, fried, grilled, pulled, stuffed, the list goes on.”

“A regular culinary conundrum.” Arya articulated. “There’s so much that goes into cooking. So many techniques and tools, I don’t know how anyone can keep it straight. My mom—"

 _This is fine._ Sandor thought to himself as Arya’s tangent continued. _This back and forth, this easy comradery, is precious in and of itself. How many people can say they have someone like Arya in their life? One of the precious few I am, and yet I want to be greedy? Not being happy unless she’s mine? Only wanting her as something more and not being happy with what we have? Fuck no, I’m not one of those guys. I’m happy, she makes me happy, and I should be grateful that I at least have that._

“So,” Sandor began, set on finally getting over these accursed feelings. Or at least pretending to. “What are you thinking of getting?”

Arya considered the menu, lips pursed, before answering. “Probably a burger, gotta put this place through it’s paces you know?”

Sandor rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically. “I don’t know why I even asked.”

“Burgers are an American staple Sandor.” Arya reminded him. “I will not apologize for being patriotic.”

“And that means you have to eat one for breakfast, lunch, and dinner? At this point your blood is just burger grease.”

“This from the chicken king himself?”

“At least I mix it up.”

“It’s still just chicken, no matter what form it takes.”

“There’s no ‘just’ about chicken.”

“Excuse me!” Came a voice nearby, drawing both their attention to their waitress. She had an annoyed look on her face she quickly schooled once she got a good look at Sandor, giving him the impression this wasn’t the first time she had tried to get their attention. “Welcome to the Stone Oven, my name is Carla and I’ll be your waitress today. What can I get you two to drink?” Her voice wavered a tad as she took out her notepad and took a subtle step closer to Arya. And away from him.

“Water.” Sandor rasped, internally debating whether a beer at noon would be a good idea. Might help dull the pain.

“Same.” Arya seconded. “We’re actually ready to order.”

“Okay.” Carla nodded, scribbling down their drinks, before meeting Arya’s eyes. “What’ll it be?”

“I’ll have your bacon cheeseburger with the steak fries.” Arya read off from the menu. “Could I get no tomatoes on that?”

“Picky.” Sandor teased under his breath. Arya stuck her tongue out at him in response.

“And you sir?” Carla asked Sandor, eyes locked to her notebook.

“Grilled chicken, fries.” Sandor rasped, handing her both their menus.

“Alright, that should be out soon.” Carla reported before quickly scurrying away to handle another table.

“I don’t like her.” Arya whispered. Sandor only raised his eyebrow in response. “She didn’t even look at you. Didn’t you notice?”

“I’m used to it.” Sandor shrugged. Which he was, after living 28 years with this face he barely paid attention to people’s reaction to him nowadays. Helped by the fact he only gave a shit about one person’s opinion, and she was sitting across from him.

“I don’t think I ever will be.” Arya shook her head in disgust. “Seriously, they’re gonna treat you like that just ‘cause of how you look? Ugh, I know I’m probably a broken record at this point but it pisses me off so much.”

“Calm down there wolf girl.” Sandor chuckled. “No need to start biting people’s heads off.”

“Maybe that’ll teach people to treat you with some respect.” Arya grumbled under her breath as Carla brought them their drinks.

“Your food should be right out.” Carla informed them, moving on to the next table before the sentence was even done.

“Look!” Arya whisper yelled. “She couldn’t get away from you fast enough!”

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but they are pretty busy.” Sandor reminded her, a slight teasing lift to his voice. “She probably has a lot on her plate.”

“You’re being difficult.” Arya pouted.

“Me?” Sandor placed a hand over his heart. “Difficult? Never.”

“Whatever, all I know is she’s crazy if she thinks she’s getting a good tip from me.”

“But you’ll still tip her.”

“Well duh.” Arya rolled her eyes. “You always gotta tip.”

Sandor snorted, but said nothing else. They fell into a comfortable silence after that, with Arya typing away at her phone and Sandor gazing out the window. The Stone Oven, despite what it’s name might imply, did not use a stone oven to cook it’s food. In fact, nothing about the outer or inner aesthetic would give any context to that name. Why it was called was a tourist like Sandor wouldn’t be privy to knowing nor would he feel like asking. Nearby was a generic drug store called Lenny’s, whose name was only readable due to the dirt left behind by the long fallen off letters.

 _Should probably stop by there to get something to drink for the ride back._ Sandor thought. _Which should probably happen after lunch. No need to try and extend the day beyond this, plan was a failure might as well end the day on a good note. She would have probably said no anyway._

“Hey, Sandor? Why haven’t you ever dated anyone?”

Sandor snapped his eyes to hers, hoping at first that he had imagined the question. But her eyes were trained right on him, causing his internal dread to spike. This is going to fucking hurt, he just knows it. “What?” He asked, stalling for time.

“Why haven’t you dated anyone? You know, in the 5 years you’ve been in Winterwood I’ve never heard, from you or anyone else, about you going out with someone.” Arya poked, apparently not sensing that this was something he really didn’t want to talk about.

“Why does that matter?” He asked evasively.

“W-well,” She stuttered, apparently caught off guard by the rebuttal. “I’m just worried about you. I think you could use someone in your life, you know?” Arya explained, taking a sip out of her drink like she wasn’t ripping open a wound that hadn’t even healed. “So, anyone in town you got your eye on?”

_Yes, you. But I know you don’t want and would never want a guy like me, so I gave up on that. Not like it fucking mattered, I can’t date anyone else ever again. Everyone would just get compared to you, and they’ll all come up short. So don’t worry about me, I’ll just be alone for the rest of my sad fucking life because I can’t fucking move on from a woman who never once shown any interest in me._

But he couldn’t say any of that, not unless he wanted her to run out of here screaming.

“Doesn’t matter.” Sandor shook his head, opting to just avoid the question all together. “No woman would want to wake up to this every morning.” Sandor grumbled, gesturing to his face.

“Oh come on Sandor, you know that’s not true.” Arya rolled her eyes, waving his self-deprecation off.

“I’ve been living my whole fucking life like this, I’d think I know my prospects a bit better then you.” Sandor growled.

“Well I—”

“What about you, huh?” Sandor cut her off before her prodding could uncover even more things better left hidden. “Haven’t heard anything about you shaking up with anyone either? Anyone you pining after?”

Arya avoided his eyes and shrugged. “Well,” She began, making Sandor immediately regret even opening his mouth. “There actually is a guy I’ve been interested in.”

_No. No No No No! This can’t be real, this has to be a fucking nightmare. This is too much for one day. I just gave up, just started licking my wounds, now I have to sit here and listen to her swoon over another man? No, I have to stop this._

“Guy from college?” He asked instead, apparently intent on torturing himself with knowledge that he knew would only make the heartbreak worse.

“No, met him after. Right after basically.” Arya shook her head, her eyes focused on the drink she was currently stirring. Sandor started running through his head a list of all the men in Winterwood he knew, which was unfortunately a short list. Sandor has never hated his antisocial tendencies until now.

“You say something to him?” Sandor asked, not sure which answer he would prefer to hear.

Arya cringed. “No, haven’t yet. Can’t really bring myself to do it.”

“Can’t expect anything to happen if you don’t say something.” Sandor advised, ever the hypocrite.

“Ugh, I know but I’m just worried, you know?”

“About?”

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?” Arya worried, voice small. “I’m not that pretty, so—"

A full-on belly laugh burst its way out of Sandor, his head back and hands pounding on the table. The commotion was apparently not appreciated by their fellow lunch goers, as he was shushed by many of the other booths around them. “Good one.” Sandor commended, once he had finally calmed down.

Arya looked at him with an amused yet perplexed look. “Uh, I don’t get it.”

Sandor stared at her, humor slowly melting from his features. “Wait, you were serious?”

“Uh.” Arya started, still confused at his sudden display. “About what?”

“About not being pretty.” Sandor reminded her, astonishment clear in his voice.

“Well yeah, I mean compared to Sansa I’m nothing special.” Arya explained casually, her sentence slowing down at the almost offended look on Sandor’s face. “What?”

“The fuck are you talking about girl?” Sandor demanded.

“I seriously don’t see what is so hard to comprehend here Sandor.” Arya sighed.

“The fact that the most gorgeous woman I know thinks she isn’t.” Sandor spoke lowly, letting a small hint of his true feelings shine through.

“Ha ha ha. Very funny.” Arya rolled her eyes. “I thought you hated lying.”

“I ain’t joking, and I don’t fucking lie.” He growled. Which was only half true. This past year showed how good he was at lying by omission.

“Come on man.” Arya shook her head, refusing the compliment. “You expect me to believe that when you’ve seen Sansa?”

“Would you shut the fuck up about Sansa?!” He shouted, attracting a few concerned looks that he ignored. “I don’t give a shit about her, I’m talking about you.”

“But—”

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it!” He cut her off. “You talk about yourself like that again, I’m boxing your ears.”

Arya marveled at him, a look of shock he fought to not show on his own face. His offense at her self-deprecation was both hypocritical and extreme, catching him completely off guard, and yet he couldn’t find it in himself to regret a word of what he said.

Slowly she smiled at him; a shy smile rarely found on the boisterous women that he’ll probably treasure for the rest of his life. “I don’t know if I really believe you, but thanks Sandor, that means a lot.”

“You better believe it ‘cause it’s the fucking truth girl, and don’t you let anyone tell you differently.” Sandor waved off her thanks, taking a deep pull of his own drink to try and wash the bitterness of his next statement off his tongue. “That guy you want say something different, you let me know and I’ll give him a talking to he won’t forget.”

The fact he would get to kick the teeth in of the man who captured Arya’s heart was just nice bonus.

Arya laughed openly at that, getting her own share of glares from the other patrons. “Oh, I’d love to see how that would work out.”

Sandor raised his one good eyebrow in challenge. “Don’t think I could take him?”

Arya chuckled. “I think you’d be pretty evenly matched.”

 _Fuck it,_ Sandor thought. _Might as well bite the bullet._ “Who is it then?”

“Nope.” Arya shook her head, a shit eating grin on her face. “Not saying.”

“Oh come on, don’t leave me hanging like that.” Sandor pushed, despite the war raging in his heart to leave well enough alone.

“Sorry, I’m not telling.” Arya insisted with a shake of her head.

“Afraid I’ll do something to the guy?” Sandor persisted, his curiosity for who could have possibly won Arya’s heart overtaking his sense of self-preservation. “If I swear I won’t will you tell me?” He was 99% sure he would be able to keep that promise.

“Seriously Sandor, no.” Arya’s voice was serious now, not a drop of humor to be found, and her eyes had lost their typical brightness, and yet Sandor couldn’t stop himself. He had to know just who was able to capture her heart in the way he obviously never could.

“Just tell me, what’s the bi—”

“I said no, okay?!” Arya shouted, looking down at the table. “Just leave it alone!” A lull washed over the restaurant as the entire restaurant looked to see the source of the outburst.

Her anger felt like a slap in the face, helping him to regain the sense that had seemed to escape him at the mention of her mystery man. Before he could open his mouth to apologize, Carla came back with their food. But this time she was escorted by a dark skinned man Sandor could only assume was the manager.

“We’ve received multiple complaints of outburst from this booth.” The manager remarked, his eyes flicking between Sandor and Arya before landing on Sandor. “Is there a problem?”

“No.” They both said at the same time, not looking at each other.

“Are you sure?” Carla asked Arya specifically, crouching to speak in her ear but speaking far too loudly for Sandor to not hear. “Do you feel like you’re in danger?”

Arya gritted her teeth and clenched her hands, her annoyance with Carla’s treatment of him on full display. “No, ‘cause he would never hurt me. So. Fuck. Off.” She lashed out, to the astonishment of them both. Not Sandor though, he’s seen this protective side of her before. When they first started hanging out, before Winterwood had really gotten used to him and his maw, she had ended up getting into quite a few vocal (and some physical) altercations with folks over how they treated him. The towns people have gotten better since then, exposure and the threat of physical violence a surprisingly good combination for helping people get over their hang-ups.

“There is no need for that type of—”

“Would you just give us our fucking food?” Sandor growled, causing Carla to jump. _Whatever, they’re scared of me anyway, might as well get something from it._

Not wanting to be in his presence for another second, she placed their plates in front of them and scurried off, not even waiting to hear what her manager would say in response. Said manager glanced at Sandor nervously before following.

“Cunts.” Sandor muttered, earning himself a snort from Arya that helped to clear the awkward tension that had formed between them.

They chowed down in silence, quiet enough for the other patrons to finally stop glancing at them, a comfortable silence that helped them forget their own outburst. Or at least Sandor thought it did.

“So.” Arya started, after she had finished her burger with lightning speed like she always did.

Sandor grunted in acknowledgment; his mouth full of chicken his only excuse for delaying the apology she rightfully deserved.

“As the Chicken King himself, how does this place stack up?” She asked lightly as she munched on her fries.

Sandor sighed internally in relief, glad to move on from a not so proud moment in his life. He pretended to think about it, chewing his food extra slow. He finally swallowed, but held off on his answer, opting instead to take a drink of water to raise the anticipation. He popped his lips and sighed in satisfaction, looking at Arya just in time to catch her roll his eyes at his dramatics. “It’s alright.” He deadpanned.

Arya groaned good naturedly. “Really, all that build up and it’s just ‘alright?”

“The king has spoken.” Sandor declared.

“Long live the king.” Arya laughed in return.

“And how does my Burger Queen find the establishment.” Sandor said with faux posh-ness, before internally cringing at his word choice again.

“Hm, to echo my king; it’s alright.” She mimicked his voice, quite well if he was being honest, thankfully ignoring the way he claimed her for the second time that day.

“Not much of a hidden treasure.”

“Maybe Seattle just has low standards.”

“Those cars at the show would say otherwise.”

“Oh my god.” Arya started; eyes bright in wonder. “Did you see those beauties? There were so many of them, and they all looked so good~. I got a couple of their business cards, we should totally talk to them to see if we could learn anything about how restored them. Oh, and did you see that Camaro? The one from 1969? God that was gorgeous. I talked to the owner and she said—"

Sandor didn’t even try to get a word in, the combination of chicken and the sight of Arya being happy enough to make him content.

_Even if she’s not mine, this is still pretty good._

Eventually, once they were both finished and Carla was apparently able to gather the courage to give them the check, their usual fight began.

“I’m paying.” Arya declared as she reached for the check.

“Nope.” Sandor denied, snatching the check away before she could.

“Come on, you paid last time.” Arya whined.

“And I’m paying this time.” Sandor said with an air of finality, dropping his card into the check holder and handing it to the skittish waitress. “I invited you, so this is my treat.”

“Fine.” Arya relented with a sigh, before standing from the booth. “Well, while you protect that male pride of yours, I’m gonna go to the little mechanics room.”

“Don’t fall in.” Sandor teased at her back, which she responded to with a middle finger over her shoulder.

Sandor relaxed in the booth, internally mapping the route he would have to take back to Winterwood, as he waited for both his card and Arya to return.

“Sandor?” A voice called to his right.

Sandor eyes widened in recognition, before he turned quickly to find a familiar pudgy face. “Hot Pie?”

“Oh, it was you!” The young man with curly brown hair grinned at Sandor’s stunned face. The boy had been a cook for the Lannisters, and somehow had warmed up to him despite Sandor making it quite clear he wanted nothing to do with him. Sandor had to admit, kid made a solid pie. “I heard from some of the waitresses in the back a big guy with a scar was making a huge commotion in the front and I thought “No way, it couldn’t be” but I couldn’t stop wondering so once there was a bit of a lull in orders I just had to come out here to see if I was right and I was, it’s you Sandor!” Hot Pie rambled off, his ability to talk making Arya seem reserved in comparison, as he wrapped Sandor in hug.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sandor asked, his mind reeling too much to push him away.

“Well, after what happened in LA, I came back to live with my parents and they helped me out so much by getting me a job here cooking in the back and I’ve been working here ever since. I love it, they let me experiment all I want after closing time so I’ve really improved since you last saw me, did you notice?”

“Your parents live in Washington?” Sandor demanded, still trying to wrap his head around the presence of the young man he hadn’t seen in 5 years.

“Yup, right here in Seattle.” Hot Pie suddenly stopped, looking at the booth Sandor was sat in. “That’s odd, I thought I told Carla to save this booth.”

Sandor’s eye widened even farther; his brain overwhelmed with the amount of information it was suddenly absorbing. “You mean **you’re** Smith’s inside man?”

“Oh! You know Smith?”

“How the fuck do **you** know Smith?” Sandor nearly shouted.

“I met him when he was on a job.”

“A job? You know what his job is?”

Hot Pie only laughed in response, before his eyes widened in realization. “Oh, so you’re the one Smith wanted me to save this table for.”

“Uh.” Sandor started, a futile effort to get a word in before the torrent began.

“Yes I had to call in a favor with Carla, she owed me one cause I was able to cater for her sister’s wedding after their original caterer dropped out at the last minute you see? It’s kinda funny, I called in a favor cause Smith called in a favor with me, but I didn’t know the man he was talking about was you! He said something about a trial run date? How goes it? Do you think the plan is working? Is she falling for you? Are you—"

“Shut the fuck up already!” Sandor bellowed, silencing the far too chatty man and the rest of the restaurant before he could reveal even more of his pathetic fucking plan to the entire fucking world. Carla choose right then to hurry over, drop his card and receipt on the table, and bolt to the other side of the restaurant.

“A trial run?” A voice spoke from behind Hot Pie, making Sandor’s eyes widen in horror.

_There is no god. Or if there is, they’re having a field day with my life right now. I don’t know which would be worse._

Stepping from behind Hot Pie came a very concerned and very confused Arya Stark. “What does he mean Sandor?”

Hot Pie’s face grew pale as he glanced between the her and a silent Sandor. “Oh, so she was—”

“Go the fuck away Hot Pie.” Sandor growled. Hot Pie, detecting the threat to his person, fled back to the safety of his kitchen, leaving Sandor to clean up the mess he had made.

“What did he mean Sandor?” Arya repeated herself as she crossed her arms, face scrunched in confusion.

“Doesn’t matter.” He rasped, grabbing his card and heading for the door. He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid her questioning for long but he didn’t want to have it out in front of all these strangers; he’s suffered enough for today.

“Sandor!” Arya called after him, having to run to catch up with his much longer stride. “What the fuck is going on? What was he talking about?”

Sandor said nothing as they made their way through the parking lot, racking his brain to try and explain this away before their relationship was irreparably ruined.

_I’ll lie. That’s it, I’ll lie and say he had the plan wrong. That this whole day was a trial run for a real date I’ll have with **someone** else, not her. All I have to do is lie._

As Sandor slid into the driver’s seat, he worked through the lie in his head in preparation for her inevitable barrage of questions. _She’ll ask “What was he talking about?” and I’ll say “He had the plan wrong; it was a date for someone else”. That’s all I have to do, simple._

Arya finally caught up, sitting down and buckling up in the passenger seat before staring at him. Sandor was ready, he was ready to lie right to her face to protect himself. Because he has no honor. Because he’s a coward. Because he is nothing like the type of man she deserved.

“Are you okay?” Arya asked instead, no trace of anger to be found, throwing his poorly laid plans asunder.

“What?” He asked in return, his brain doing it’s best to rewire itself in the face of her concern.

“Are you okay?” Arya repeated, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “You been acting weird all day, and with the way you acted in the restaurant I’m just worried something is going on with you.”

Her concern was like a key, sliding it’s way through his veins until it reached his heart. But it didn’t stop there, it kept going until it found the deepest part of him, where something was locked away from the rest of the world. The key fell easily into the lock, opening up the one thing he never wanted to let out. And it exploded out of it’s prison, a monster on the loose who’s only goal was escape, to be free, to show itself to a world it’s been denied since it’s inception.

And the easiest way to get out was right through his own mouth.

“Am I alright?” He began, staring out the windshield to avoid her eyes, clutching the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. He didn’t know where he was going with this, but for some reason he no longer cared. It was if he finally, truly, gave up. “No, no I’m not. You want to know why? Because I’m tired, I’m so fucking tired of living like this. Of being around you all the time and knowing I can’t have you. Because I fucking love you.”

He said it. It was over. But the dam was open and there was no way to stop the flood. The only thing he could do was go with the flow and hope he died fast.

“I fucking love you so bad and I know there is nothing I can even fucking do about it cause of my fucking face. My brother ruined me for the rest of my life, and the only thing I have to look forward to is to die alone. I’m old, I’m ugly, I’m a brute, and I’m your god damn boss. The perfect recipe to not even be on your radar, and I fucking hate it. But I should be happy, I know I should, just to be in your god damn presence even if it’s just as a friend. But I can’t, because I’m a fucking idiot who doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone. So I thought of this, this completely idiotic plan to bring you with me to Seattle under the laughable impression that I could somehow convince you to just _look_ at me, to see me as a man and not just your friend.”

Sandor laughed bitterly, a suicidal urge driving him to continue, like a man seeing the cliff at the end of the road yet stepping on the gas anyway. “So that’s what Hot Pie was talking about. This, this whole day, was just a ploy to get you to even entertain the idea of dating me. A trial run, where I was one under observation. Or at least that was what I told Smith, hell I even convinced myself of that, but in reality it wasn’t anything that hopeful. I knew, deep down, this whole day would be the closest thing a guy like me would get to an actual date with a woman like you. And I couldn’t even fucking do that right. So no, I’m not okay. And I haven’t been since I met you.”

There was silence after that, the only sound being his own panting. He wanted to look over at her, to see her reaction, to see her face, but he couldn’t. He wanted to push it off, to delay the inevitable for just a little while longer, to let him have just a few more seconds of the dream of being her best friend before being thrust into the nightmare that was her resentment, her fear, her disgust.

But there was one reaction he never thought about.

One reaction that, in all his dreams and nightmares, he never even thought her capable of.

A reaction that went right pact a nightmare and pushed him straight to hell.

She started laughing.

And not a small laugh, or an awkward laugh, no this was a loud one. A laugh straight from her core. A laugh that took her breath away and brought tears to her eyes. This was the hardest Sandor has ever heard her laugh in the whole time he’s known her.

And it was the worst thing he’s ever heard in his miserable life.

Her laughter washed over him like a wave of fire, as if he was back on that fateful day when his face was shoved in the fireplace. Except this time his whole body was in the fire, burning under the force of her pity. She was laughing at him, at his feelings. He had prepared for anything she could say if he confessed, anything she could do. Except this. He never expected her to be this cruel, to kick him while he was down, to rip his heart out and crush it right before his very eyes.

But, now that he’s hearing it, he couldn’t blame her. Honestly laughter was the most logical choice after a desperate confession like that. How could he have expected for a woman like that to hear a confession from a man like him and not laugh her ass off. He would, if he was in her shoes.

Doesn’t make it hurt any less.

He growled and started the car, ready to hit the road so he can say goodbye to this shit day.

And to the best fucking friend he’s ever had.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the confession. Hopefully it was worth the wait.

“… and I haven’t been since I met you.” Sandor muttered, so quiet it could barely be heard over the buzz of the mediocre restaurant’s early afternoon traffic.

Or maybe that buzz was the blood rushing to her ears. Hard to tell, and she didn’t really have the brain cells to spare trying to figure it out.

_He loves me._

Arya’s flailing brain latched onto that one piece of info like a life vest in a typhoon. _He loves me. He loves me. He loves me._ She repeated it like an anthem, trying to kick start her brain back into peak performance to try digest the rest of the onslaught of information that was just dumped on her.

Well, peak for her.

_He loves me._

**_AHHHH!_ **

_Stop, focus. We got a lot more info to parse through here brain, I need you to focus._

**_AHHHH!_ **

_Okay, I’m good._

**_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_ **

_Now I’m good._

_He’s tired of being around me knowing he can’t have me._

_Does that mean he’s had these feelings for a while? How long? A month? Half a year?_

_Has he felt this way since we met?_

_Details._

_Details that I will 100% ask him about later._

_But details_

_Important stuff first._

_This whole day was a plan. A plan to get me to notice him. A plan that sounds a lot like—_

Suddenly, a fuse was flipped. One moment she’s staring at Sandor’s profile, mind moving a mile a minute, the next she was laughing. Hard. So hard in fact she could feel the tears rushing down her cheeks. Yet she barely noticed them, too focused on the absolute absurdity of the situation to comprehend her surroundings.

Her plan, the plan she had sweated and stressed and complained and agonized over, the one she had stayed up far too late last night working on with Sansa, the one that was currently resting in her pocket like a gun ready to go off. This plan, this effort to get this man to finally want her, to see her; not as a fellow mechanic, or a subordinate, or a friend, but as a woman.

Was, in fact, the exact same plan Sandor had been crafting with Smith, at likely the exact same time.

It had to be, without a doubt, the funniest thing she’s ever imagined. And it was entirely at both of theirs expense.

It was only, when she heard the car start and a growl come from the unfortunate secondary target of her gut busting laughter, that all her social awareness came flooding back in.

Reminding her that laughing immediately after someone confesses is a really, really, really, really, REALLY bad move.

“SANDOR WAIT!” Arya shouted, hands flying out to stop his from reaching the gear shift. She almost threw herself over the entire center console, but that pesky social awareness came in quick to reign in her panic.

At least on the outside.

“Arya,” Sandor growled, refusing to look at her despite her stare, failing miserably at hiding the hurt in his voice. “Let’s just go home.”

“NO! No, Sandor please listen to me. I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise!” Arya begged, panic robbing her of the loose control she still had over her tongue. “I was just laughing because you had the same plan I had!”

Sandor quickly snapped his gaze to hers, no doubt searching for signs of dishonestly. Well, no worries there, there was none to find. But while his eyes were intense and alive, his face was completely flat and emotionless, as if he didn’t even believe her. Which only helped in freaking her out even more and robbing her of any semblance of control over the words that were spewing out of her mouth that she was under the illusion she had.

“Me and Sansa stayed up so late last night planning this out, I have a whole list of ideas in my pocket of places we could go in the hopes that if I kept you out all day, you’d finally look at me! Read it yourself!” Arya prompted as she slapped her magnum opus on the dash.

Normally one would keep quiet after a request like that, to give the other person a chance to actually read what you just provided them. Which she did do, allowing him to roam his eyes over the sheet of locations.

For about 3 seconds.

“And you aren’t ugly!” She spouted randomly, snapping his attention back to her, her brain suddenly deeming this gross inaccuracy to be the most important topic and to require immediate correction. “Or a brute, or old. You’ve never been …any of those things to me. God, since I met you, you’ve been the most important person in my life. My best fucking friend, no way would I ever think that way about you. And I don’t care if you are my boss, that hasn’t ever mattered to me!”

Sandor’s eyes had softened at her admission, but Arya barely paid attention to that. She wasn’t really paying attention to anything, too focused on the long locked away feelings that were now running rampant. “But I never thought you would want me; I mean why would you? I’m short, I’m not that pretty – nothing like my sister, and I talk way too much. That’s why I didn’t say anything, even though I really wanted to! God, the amount of times I came home from work and had to immediately call Sansa ‘cause of I just couldn’t deal with it, always being with you but not, like, … _being_ with you, almost killed me.”

Arya slapped her forehead and laughed, this time entirely at herself. “God, all this fucking blabbering and I haven’t even said the most important part.” Arya locked eyes with a still confused Sandor. Which was understandable, she’s not sure even _she_ had kept track of everything she had prattled on about. “I love you. God, I love you so fucking much. Since that day I barged into your shop. I’ve always denied it when Sansa said anything, but I was a fucking liar! I love you, I love your face, I love your body— not like that …well, yes like that but not like that right _now_ , I love how you don’t mind when I fucking talk your ear off— do you know even my family hates that?! That’s how fucking special that is. That how fucking special _you_ are!”

“And this whole day was supposed to be me doing… _something_ to try and get you to see that or to think that way about me because I was too much of a coward to say anything and… and… and that’s why I was asking you about dating ‘cause I didn’t know if there was someone else you wanted that wasn’t me and when I said there was a guy I was interested in it was you! I wasn’t talking about anyone else, who else would I even be talking about?! And I just love you Sandor, and you haven’t said anything or stopped me from saying anything and it’s kinda freaking me out ‘cause I didn’t really have destination in mind when I started talking so if you could just jump in and say something that would be—”

Her tirade was finally stopped by Sandor grabbing her face and locking his lips to hers, silencing all sounds from her except a surprised squeak. His lips moving against hers sent a shock right to her brain, finally waking it up to the fact that **SANDOR WAS KISSING HER!** Immediately her instincts took over, making her wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down to get him as close as she could. She flicked her tongue out to run along his bottom lip, earning her a groan before he started to pull back, making her tighten her grip on him to stop his retreat.

“What’s wrong?” She panted against his lips. In lieu of a response, he reached over and removed her seat belt before picking her up and depositing her right in his lap. Her second squeak was again cut off by his mouth on hers. Their second kiss was much more desperate, like they were only able to expel all their pent-up feelings using the other’s mouth. When his tongue snaked out to mirror her earlier actions she almost moaned, having just enough self-control to not completely embarrass herself. Self-control that immediately went out the window the minute she opened her lips to give him access, his tongue delving into her mouth to find hers dragging up a shameless moan she no longer had the facilities to be embarrassed about.

His beard was definitely scratchy, but in a surprisingly pleasant way. And his lips were a lot softer then she expected them to be, except the part covered in scar tissue which was both smooth and rough at the same time, which made no sense but she had absolutely no intentions of focusing on that when she could be focusing on this man who she was currently dueling tongues with.

And his hands! Gods, those hands she had stared at a countless number of times at work. It’s a shock she got anything done with how often she just watched those hands, wondering what it would feel like to be touched by him, caressed, groped, who fucking cares what it was called as long as they were on her. Wonderful, that is what it would feel like. Or, to be more accurate, what it currently felt like as he kept one hand firmly on the back of her head, securing her mouth to his, while the other hand roamed from her shoulder to her waist to her hip to her thigh and back again. Where his palm traveled, fire formed, running a course straight down her spine right to her core.

Her hands were equally as nomadic, now that she could finally touch him in ways she’s only dreamt of. She rubbed him slowly, savoring the heat of his body and the hard plains of his body through the barrier of his shirt. Her motions earned herself another groan, a noise that had quickly earned it’s spot as her favorite sound in the world.

Arya pulled away and gasped, no longer able to ignore her lungs desperate plea for oxygen. “Whoa…” She whispered against Sandor’s lips, trying to figure out if this was a dream and whether it would even be worth to wake up if it was. “That was—”

What it was will forever be a mystery, Sandor effectively silencing her thoughts by dragging her lips back to his. His hands moved southward, gripping her bottom and pulling her forward to press her body right against the wall that was his chest and her core to his hard length.

 _Oh god, am I really about to have sex with Sandor in his car?_ Arya thought as their groins pressed together, her moans being met in turn by his own sounds of pleasure. _Right in a fucking parking lot? Where a bunch of people might see?_ Her hips were not apart of this internal debate, rotating and grinding her core against his to feel more of that wonderful friction. Her motions drew out another groan, a delicious noise that that seemed to make her decision for her. _Yup, that is exactly what I’m gonna do. Hope they enjoy the show!_

“Arya,” Sandor panted to her lips, a deliciously deep reading of her name that she felt more then heard.

“Hmm?” She hummed, kissing him again.

“We… need… to… stop.” Sandor said between kisses, seemingly unwilling to take his own advice.

“Why?” Arya whispered.

“Cause I’m not fucking you in my car.” Sandor explained lowly, leaning back in his seat to escape her onslaught.

“Ever the honorable knight.” Arya sighed dramatically, dropping her arms and resting back on her calves. Sandor only snorted in response.

His words said one thing, but his eyes were singing a different tune, two dark orbs looking at her with a hunger that made her blood burn and her hands itch to be on him again. An itch he must have shared, as his hands found hers and began a gentle, almost reverential, caressing of the back of her hands with his thumbs.

“I better not be fucking dreaming again.” Sandor muttered.

“Again? You dreamed about me?” She asked, responding to a confession he obviously did not mean to make if his grimace was anything to go off of.

“Fuck.” Sandor breathed, which was all the answer she needed.

“Good dreams or bad?” Arya asked with a teasing lift.

“Thought they were nightmares before today.”

“Was I that scary?”

He pulled her forward, wrapping his arms around her and grumbling his answer into her hair. “Fucking scary for my self-esteem maybe.”

If someone asked her ‘What is the best place in the world?’, she could now confidently answer with ‘Wrapped in Sandor’s arms’.

“You are _not_ ugly.” Arya repeated, squeezing him in the hopes that the added pressure would help him believe her.

“Hmm” He hummed in disbelief. “And you are pretty as hell.”

“God, we are really fucking cowards huh?” Arya laughed.

Sandor chuckled, giving her a chaste kiss. “Complete cowards.”

A silence fell over them, not necessarily awkward but not quite comfortable either. Arya knew they weren’t done, that they needed to talk about their feelings in an actual conversation and not a battle of word vomit, but she really just wanted to stay in Sandor’s arms a bit longer, to enjoy his warmth and firmness that was wrapped around her like the world’s best blanket.

“Hey.” Arya started, speaking quietly into his chest.

Sandor grunted in acknowledgment, pulling her just far enough away to meet her eyes.

“I love you.” Arya smiled at him, stopping his lips from claiming hers with a hand and a laugh. “Wait, wait, trust me I wanna kiss you just as much as you want to kiss me, and we definitely have a lot of loss time to make up for in that department, but let me say this first.”

Sandor sighed, hands resting on her hips. “Fine. You always were better at talking.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Anyway, as I was saying; I love you. And I want to see where… this,” Arya gestured between them. “us, can go. What do you think?”

“I think I want to fucking kiss you.” Sandor growled, leaning forward to make his thoughts a reality.

Arya really should have fought a bit more to hear an actual answer, if nothing else then to just annoy him, but his lips were doing funny things to her thoughts so she gave in.

“Aye.” Sandor murmured after a minute, when they both had come up for air.

“What?” Arya asked still in her lip fueled stupor.

“Aye, I fucking want you.” Sandor explained, framing her face with his hands to scan her face. “Of course I fucking want you, us, but are you sure you want—”

Arya cut off his inevitable self-deprecating question with a kiss. “Yes, yes I want you, all of you.”

Sandor sighed in relief, pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes. “God, I love you woman.”

_How do you not kiss a man after a declaration like that?_

Thus began another bout of kissing, though this time much more gentle. These kisses represented more then just a desperate need for the other; they were an apology for the past, an appreciation for the present, and a promise for the future. Each kiss, if they weren’t marked with a quiet yet audible whisper of devotion, was the “I love you” they had both been praying to hear for far too long.

“So…” Arya started, pulling back in an attempt to not be distracted by his lips.

A futile effort, but an effort nonetheless.

“So.” Sandor echoed, a relaxed half smile on his face that Arya wasn’t sure she had ever seen him sport before. _I did that to him_. She thought with pride.

“Now what?” Arya prompted, glancing at the clock of the still running car. 1:47pm, it was about noon or so when they got to the Stone Oven, so even taking into account them eating they had been at each other for at least 45 minutes. _Not nearly long enough_. Arya thought.

“Don’t know.” Sandor grunted, running his fingers through her hair in thought. “Didn’t really think I’d get this far.”

“Me neither.”

“You wanna head home?”

“We could, or…” Arya started, reaching behind her for the forgotten list and holding it up for him to see. “We could try and not let Sansa’s hard work go to waste.”

“Still wanna see Seattle?”

“Seattle, Shmeattle, I’m just trying to show off my new man.” She said with an exaggerated southern drawl.

“Right.” Sandor snorted in disbelief; despite the face she was 100% serious. _Sandor really doesn’t think he’s handsome,_ Arya realized. _I’ll have to work on that._

“Why not? We’re already out here, what better time to have our first date then now?” Arya shrugged, her nonchalance a cover for the absolute joy she was feeling on the inside. _Fuck, I’m dating Sandor now._ Arya thought in awe. _Me, Arya Stark, Horse-face herself. Sansa is gonna flip!_ Her cover lasted for a whole 2 seconds, before a giddy grin bloomed on her face.

A grin Sandor matched in spades. “Fuck,” He laughed, squeezing her waist and pulling her in for a quick kiss. “I never thought I’d fucking hear you say something like that. Aye girl, let’s see what’s on that list of yours.”

“First thing is mini golf.” Arya read off, looking up when Sandor groaned. “Which you aren’t a fan of.” Arya knew this one wouldn’t go over well, with his size even regular golf clubs would barely work. “Next one was—”

“Mini golf is fine.” Sandor rasped, interrupting her reading.

Arya raised a brow at him. “But I thought you hated mini golf?”

“I hate the fucking clubs, game itself is alright.”

“Well, hate to break it to you Sandor, but the clubs are kind of a requirement.”

“I got an idea.” Sandor explained vaguely, picking her up and depositing her back into her seat. He laughed at her disappointed whine. “Can’t drive with you in my lap girl.”

“Why not?” Arya asked, fake pout in full force.

“Cause I’ll be too fucking distracted.” He growled lowly, leaning over to steal another kiss.

“Mhm.” Arya moaned lowly, stealing a kiss of her own. “Can’t have that.” She whispered against his lips.

Sandor groaned and fell back into his chair, a boyish grin on his face. “God girl, you are gonna be the death of me.” He laughed as he put the car into reverse.

* * *

The early afternoon sun shined down on Seattle, the emerald city, washing it in a golden light that made the buildings shine. With the warmth of the sun and the beauty of the almost cloudless sky, one wouldn’t be judged for believing Washington was enjoying a nice, cool, summer day rather than still working off the winter it had just suffered through. Weaving amongst the concrete titans, the populace went about their daily lives, moving this way and that, each working together, unknowingly, to keep this city going for another day.

And, amongst the rabble, was Arya and Sandor, driving towards their destination with their hands held comfortably in the grasp of the other’s.

“I didn’t think you’d be so into physical affection.” Arya mused, watching a business man talk into his phone while he ran to catch the bus, as they waited at a light.

Sandor’s hand stiffened slightly, before he went to extract his mitt from her grasp. She kept her grip firm, pulling their joined hands over so she could kiss the back of his. “Not a bad thing, just something I noticed.” She glanced over at him, only to find his eyes already watching her. She returned his stare with a reassuring smile.

Sandor relaxed, caressing her hand with his thumb, as he returned his view to the road. “Just like touching you, reminds me this is real.”

She kissed his hand again, resting their joined appendages in her lap. 

“Oh!” Arya exclaimed, reaching into her bag to grab her phone. “I gotta update Sansa.”

“Update her on what?” Sandor asked.

“On how the date is going.” Arya explained, before laughing. “Which means I have to tell her this is an actual date now.”

“How do you think she’ll take it?” Sandor questioned casually, but Arya knew better. If there was one thing Sandor knew about her family, it was this; you deal with one Stark, you have to deal with all of them. Which is a test of patience for any person, let alone someone trying to date the youngest daughter. No doubt he’s worried how her family will take it. Or how they’ll react to him.

Which is fair, because now she’s worrying about the same thing.

“Sandor, don’t worry. My family will love you; I already do and Sansa will probably be too glad that I finally grew a pair and confessed to even think anything bad about you.” Arya comforted, mirroring his caresses with her own thumb.

Sandor sighed. “Hope so.”

“I know so.” Arya said this with more confidence then she actually felt, but Sandor was able to worry just fine on his own, no need to offer her own fears as a source of amplification. She pulled out her phone and pulled up her conversation with Sansa, reading the “mission” she had been given and laughing out loud.

mission accomplished

The message she sent was simple, which she expected would spawn all kinds of follow up questions and demanded retellings of said mission.

What she did not expect was for her phone to ring, that annoyingly generic pop song blaring from her phone’s speakers as Sansa’s smiling face lit up the screen.

“That’s your—”

“I didn’t set it, she did.” Arya cut off Sandor’s tease, before answering the phone. “Hey Sis—”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN MISISON ACOMPLISHED?!!!” Came her sister’s very, very, very excited response, forcing Arya to rip the phone away from her head to save her own eardrums.

“Calm down there sis.” Arya tried to sooth the raging beast on the other end of the line.

“Oh no you don’t, this is not a time to be calm Arya!” Sansa continued, unabated. “Which mission? What did you do~~~!?”

Arya could only laugh, looking over at an amused Sandor. “Okay, if you’re gonna scream I might as well put you on speaker.” Arya tapped a button and set the phone on the dash.

“Arya, tell me~!” Sansa whined, voice echoing through the vehicle.

Arya sighed dramatically. “Fine, but first I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

“Uh.” Sansa started. “Okay~~, who?”

Arya cleared her throat, fighting back a laugh. “Sansa, I’d like to re-introduce you to Sandor Clegane, my boyfriend.”

Sandor chuckled, squeezing her hand as he continued to navigate them, uninhibited by the Stark sister chaos.

There was silence on the other end of the line, making Arya think perhaps the call had been dropped or the surrounding buildings were cutting off the signal. But she was wrong, it was similar to any natural disaster, there is always a stretch of quiet, of calm, before the cataclysm occurs.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!” Came a scream from Arya’s phone, making her jump and Sandor swerve the car. Arya scrambled to grab her phone, ending the call before any more damage could be done to either of their hearing.

“What the fuck was that?” Sandor yelled, looking in the rear view mirror to see if any cops had seen his panicked driving.

“That, my love, was Sansa.” Arya sighed.

“Well what the fuck was wrong with her?”

“Give it a second.” Arya responded, waiting for her phone to ring like she knew it would.

And it did. Right on time.

“Please don’t scream again.” Arya quickly said as she answered it, putting it back on speaker when there was no screeching in response.

“Fine.” Sansa huffed. “In my defense, that had been building for a full year now.”

“She had more confidence in us then we did.” Sandor grunted, probably intending for it to be between the two of.

Sansa’s hawk like hearing, even over the horrible medium of cellular communication, was not to be trifled with. “Oh I know I did. I don’t know what took you two so long. I mean seriously, how could you possible— OMG SHUT UP YOU TWO ARE DATING NOW EEEEE~~!”

Sandor grimaced but at least was able to keep the vehicle under control. Arya sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Sansa, remember no—”

“No yelling, yes you’re right. I’m sorry, but I’m just so happy for you two!”

“Thanks sis.” Arya smiled at the phone. “Sandor would thank you, too, but you’ll have to wait for his hearing to come back first.”

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny. Apologies for thinking this was a moment to celebrate.”

“Oh we celebrated alright.” Arya grinned. “Just a bit more… physically”

“ARYA STARK DO YOU—” Sansa started before Arya reached over and hung up.

“That should keep her going for a while.” Arya laughed, tossing her phone back into her bag.

“Do all your siblings have that much energy?” Sandor sighed.

“Hm, I’d say it’s half and half.” Arya teased, laughing at his suffered groan.

“I’m already exhausted, and I haven’t even met most of them.” Sandor shook his head, pulling into the parking lot of Monster Mini Golf. “What a name.” Sandor remarked, looking at the sign decorated in cartoonish depictions of vampires and werewolves.

“You sure you’ll be able to take that in?” Arya asked, gesturing with her head to the package they had to make an extra stop to find resting in the back seat.

“Probably.” Sandor nodded. “I got a plan.”

“Which is?” Arya prompted, eye brow raised in question.

“Gonna just walk in with it.” Sandor shrugged.

“ _That’s_ your plan?”

“Yup.” Sandor nodded, stepping out of the car.

Arya followed suit, coming around to his side as he received the package from the backseat. “My boyfriend is a tactical genius.” She declared ironically, smiling despite herself. _It’s gonna be a long time till I can call him that without smiling._

“And don’t you forget it.” Sandor commanded, leaning down to kiss her before ushering them towards the establishment, arm wrapped around her and left hand sitting comfortably on her waist.

“Well,” Arya said upon entering, looking around at the interior design and decorations spread throughout the surprisingly empty mini golf course. “I guess, with a name like Monster Mini Golf, I should have probably expected something like this.”

It was dark, the only light source really was all the glowing paint that seemed to cover everything; archways, pillars, trucks, houses, mountains, monsters, and the courses themselves were bathed in various iridescent colors. Including the blacklights shining down from the ceiling, almost everything inside was shining in some way or another. The inside was sectioned off between three areas; the golf courses, the arcade, and the register area where customers would pay to access either of them. The place was a ghost town, with only one family actually on the courses and not a soul in the arcade, despite the fact it was a in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday.

“A fucking ghost town.” Sandor grunted, looking over at the arcade.

“You wanna go to the arcade instead?” Arya asked, following his line of sight.

“Nah,” Sandor shook his head. “Just figured that’s where the kids would be on a weekend.”

“On a nice day like this, can’t blame people for wanting to spend it outside.” Arya shrugged, leading the way to the register.

“I’m paying, by the way.” Sandor announced.

“Nope, I am.”

“It’s out first date, I have to pay.”

“You paid for lunch.”

“Doesn’t count, wasn’t dating you then.”

“It totally counts.”

“Welcome to Monster Mini Golf~.” The extremally disinterested teen greeted from behind the register. Arya noticed her nametag said ‘Vivien’. “May I interest you in our Monster Mash yearly pass, only $59.99~.”

“Two for the mini golf.” Sandor rasped.

“Okay~.” Vivien said in an equally as energetic voice, before typing something on her machine. “That’ll $15.98~.”

Thus the battle commenced. Two rivals, two lovers, facing off against each other in financial combat. They had one goal, a goal they shared; to stop the other from paying. In that second, they both reached for their wallets, a battle that seemed to heavily favor Sandor and the fact his pants actually had pockets. But Sandor had one big disadvantage; on his right side, where his wallet resided, his hand was busy carrying the package. Sandor had to lean it against the counter before he was able to reach for his wallet. And that was all the extra time Arya needed to grab her own wallet from her bag, pull out her debit card, and slap it on the counter.

“I’ll be covering it.” Arya smiled at Vivien.

“Oh no you don’t.” Sandor growled, reaching to take the offered card away.

“Ignore him.” Arya insisted, slapping away his hand. “I’ll be paying.”

“Okay~.” Vivien said, eyes glazed as she took the card, not at all caring about the new couple’s scuffle.

Arya smiled victoriously at Sandor. “I win.” Sandor rolled his eyes in return, though he was sporting a small smile of his own.

“Here’s your clubs~.” Vivien droned, pulling out two wildly small clubs for the both of them.

“Uh, do you have any bigger clubs.” Arya asked, eying the two on display. “Some that are a bit more, uh, adult sized?”

Vivien blinked at her, face a mask of disinterest, but said nothing. A pause, and then another, and then another; by the fourth pause Arya was wondering if she would have to repeat herself, maybe even call for medical attention, when Vivien seemed to finally come back to the world of the living long enough to answer. “Okay~.” She blinked again, making Arya think they were going to have a repeat of the world’s most awkward staring contest, when she suddenly reached down and pulled out a new club that was… actually perfectly sized.

“Uh,” Arya blinked, grabbing the offered club, wondering briefly if Vivien had actually been sizing her up that whole time or if it was just a lucky guess. “Thanks.”

“Always happy to help at Monster Mini Golf~.” Vivien recited, obviously a woman who had been working at the same place for far too long.

“I’m gonna use this.” Sandor grunted, dropping the package on the table.

Mini golf is basically just like regular golf, or at least the putting part, except for one key difference; everything was a whole lot smaller, thus fitting it’s miniature pre-tense. Unfortunately, included amongst the shrunk objects includes a very important tool for actually playing the game, the clubs. Normally this wasn’t a big deal, for most normal sized people they’d either not have any difficulties or would slouch slightly and deal with it.

This does not work for Sandor, in all his 6`6`` glory. To use even the largest club available, he’d have to bend over almost 90°, a recipe for back pain. This, combined with the fact he’d been single for longer then he cared to admit, led to Sandor avoiding the places like a plague, viewing the miniature sport as a slight against his fellow height gifted brethren.

Arya, and her fellow members of the height challenged coalition, did not share in this hatred. If anything, those of diminutive height seemed to love the game more because of how small everything was and how it made them look almost normal in comparison. Arya didn’t particularly love the game, but she definitely had no ill will towards it, unlike her much taller man. Which was typically fine, the shorties will have their mini-golf, while the titans will scoff at the sport and keep their distance. But there comes a rare moment, when a giant blood finds themselves dating someone of the miniature kind, when the skyscrapers have to finally face off with the dreaded game.

The package was what Sandor had figured out, something to finally make mini golf tolerable for a man of his size. It didn’t take much to acquire, a short side trip in their already unplanned day, at most the biggest barrier for others of Sandor’s stature was cost. It certainly wasn’t a cheap item, but ask any fellow alpine-likes and they’ll tell you any cost was better than having their back try to kill them for the rest of the day. The only obstacle remaining was a possibly uncooperative mini golf attendant.

“Sir~,” Vivien drawled. “We do not allow third party clubs on the courses~.”

Arya sighed. This was exactly what she expected to happen. Sandor had seemed so confident when he spotted the golf store, walking right in and buying the largest putter he could find (and growling at anyone who offered to help him). And yet he never explained exactly _how_ he was going to take it onto the course. She had questioned him on buying something so expensive just for mini-golf, but he just shrugged it off, explaining if she ever wanted to play it again at least he’d be prepared. She was too touched to complain after that.

“How about,” Sandor growled, lowly, which sounded far, far, _far_ too sexy to be threatening. A feeling that must have been exclusive to Arya, as Vivien’s eyes widened in shock. Not by much, but it was the most amount of emotion they’d seen on the woman. “You make an exception.”

Vivien blinked, then blinked again, before reaching below the counter and pulling out two golf balls and a score sheet. “Have fun~. Please refrain from running in the mini golf zone or climbing on the obstacles~.”

Sandor nodded, grabbing the offered materials and his now allowed club before they began their trek to the first hole. “See, easy.”

“I see rules are just a suggestion to you.” Arya chuckled.

“There are benefits to having a mug like mine.”

There were 9 courses in total, all with a different monster theme and obstacle. They weren’t particularly hard courses, taking into account their target audience, but they weren’t there for the difficulty. This offered a nice way to spend some time with each other, to enjoy their brand new relationship, while having a bit of fun at the same time.

“So…” Arya started as Sandor lined up his first shot.

“So…” Sandor mirrored, eyes focused on his goal.

“Why didn’t you ask me out sooner?” She asked, right as he went to putt, causing his ball to go wildly off course.

“Fuck!” Sandor growled, ignoring the glare coming from the only other family playing. “You did that on purpose.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Arya denied with a smile, the picture of innocence.

“Right.” Sandor snorted.

Arya grinned at him, before lining her own ball. With a smack, the ball went sailing down the course and right into the hole.

Sandor groan-laughed. “I’m dating a fucking shark.”

“Good thing we didn’t bet then.” Arya smirked, standing off to the side so Sandor could finish. “Though, we could fix that.”

“No way wolf girl.” Sandor laughed, eyes on the hole, shaking his head. “You’ll run me out of house and home.”

On the next hole, as Arya teed up, she tried again. “You didn’t answer my question.”

There was a beat of silence behind her. “What question?” Sandor asked, voice flat.

“Why didn’t you ask me out sooner?” She repeated herself.

“You know why.”

“Tell me anyway?”

Silence was her only answer, which she took as a sign that she wasn’t getting her answer that day. She mentally shrugged, before focusing back on her line. With a swing, her ball rolled a bit off her intended path, ending up near the hole instead of directly in it. _Two strokes then, pretty good._ She congratulated herself, before turning around to catch Sandor staring at her.

“This,” Sandor began, pointing at his face. “Is why.”

“You’re handsome face?” Arya played dumb, immediately regretting it at the dark look that passed over his face. “Okay, okay, so you have some scars, so? I still think you’re handsome.”

Sandor just shook his head, before taking his own turn. He hit his too hard, causing it to smack into the end wall and come rolling back to the middle of the course. “Forgive me for thinking you’d be like everyone else.” He muttered.

“Sandor, come on.” Arya said gently. “Not everyone is like that.”

“Oh, aye?!” Sandor shouted. “You must know so much about it! Like how it feels to make a child cry just by looking at them? Or to have women literally laugh you out of bars ‘cause you dared to ask them out? How about making a woman scream when she wakes up to your ugly mug after a drunken night she barely remembers?!”

Arya took a step back, caught off guard by his outburst. “I-I didn’t know about any of that.” She tried, attempting to soothe her raging beast. “I’m sorry.”

Sandor groaned, anger draining out of him, as he scrubbed at his face. “Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry.” Sandor sighed, meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to blow up on you like that.”

“It’s fine.” Arya smiled at him, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was upset, but not at him. “Did all that really happen to you?”

Sandor’s bitter laugh was her only answer.

It’s not like she was blind, she’d seen the way people look at him, how they act around him, how they judge him and fear him for nothing but some scars on his face. A mark he hadn’t asked for nor wanted, yet had to live with the effects of regardless.

And yet with all that she’d seen, which she knew was basically a drop in the ocean of the shit he’d gotten, the worst thing in her eyes was how _accepting_ he was to it all. Like it didn’t matter, like he already knew what they were going to say, like he **agreed** with them, which just made her heart fucking break. This man, this wonderful, wonderful man, made to think he was a monster because the rest of the world didn’t want to see him for who he really was.

So, oddly enough, his outburst kind of made her happy. If he can still get angry than that means he still cares, still finds their treatment hurtful, and that just means he hasn’t accepted all their bullshit as fact yet. But then she felt guilty, at feeling any type of happiness at the idea of him having his feelings hurt, even if it wasn’t about him getting hurt but more him reacting to it.

She wrapper her arms around him and buried her face into his chest. “Fuck those bitches, they didn’t deserve you anyway.” She declared, voice muffled in his chirt. _Sucks to be them, ‘cause he’s mine now._ Arya thought vindictively.

Sandor ran his fingers through her hair, before leaning down to kiss the crown of her head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” He repeated himself into her hair. “It’s just… I’ve been hearing people say for basically my whole life how my scars shouldn’t affect my life. Just found reality isn’t as kind as they say it is.”

Arya nodded. “I get it, just don’t want you to think I’m one of those types of people.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “I fell for you the moment I met you. Face and all.”

Sandor sighed, leaning down to kiss her. “Aye, I know.” Sandor pressed his forehead to hers. “Makes me wonder how a guy like me even got a girl like you.”

“Because you are a guy like you.” She whispered, returning his kiss with one of her own. When they parted she smiled up at him, hoping to relive them of the dramatic air they had created. “Now come on, we gotta finish this hole. Don’t wanna hold up that line.”

Sandor glanced behind him at the completely non-existent crowd of waiting patrons and chuckled. “Oh yeah, don’t wanna make the ghosts impatient. Who knows what they might do?”

“Exactly.” Arya said as she danced out of his arms back to her ball. Sandor didn’t know how great he was, but she did, and she had every intention of making her feelings known, of pumping into him all the love and acceptance she had to give, until he believed it himself. It might take a while, but she had time.

With a gentle hit, the ball rolled easily into the hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small edit for the end of this chapter, wanted to expand a bit on Arya's thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up people, did you forget me? I really don't know what the hell happened, I said to myself this was supposed to be a short chapter.
> 
> It did not end up being a short chapter. 
> 
> Don't worry, the next one should actually be short (fingers crossed), so it shouldn't take nearly as long as this one did.

“You cheated.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“How?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet, all know is; you cheated.”

Arya laughed, hand in his which felt way too fucking good and way too fucking right, as they exited the mini golf place. Sandor chuckled himself, feeling damn near 10 years younger, and walking like he was the champion (ignoring his dismal performance). And he dared anyone to try and check him; when the gods fuck up enough to have a woman like Arya not only cross paths with, but to even fall for a dog like him, then he’ll be as proud as he wants.

“So…” Arya started, giving Sandor the impression a lot of their conversations from now on would start like this, as he threw his contraband club into the backseat. She was leaning back against the car next to the open door, watching him with elation clear in her eyes, which made absolutely no sense to him but he knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Speaking of mouth, the mouth on this girl! Those lips, those fucking lips he had dreamed and fantasized about for months, fantasies that were nothing compared to the reality of those soft, pillowy things moving against his own. Which now that he thought about it, he realized it’d been more than 10 seconds since they last kissed.

He better fix that.

Hand beside her head, blocking all escape routes that didn’t involve her crawling backwards into his back seat, which if she did _that_ he would probably have to take her right there in the parking lot and he really didn’t want that to be their first time together. He wanted it to be special, for them to have the time to explore and learn how the other ticks and what gets each other off, and that’s not going to happen if he just starts rutting against her like the hound he is in his backseat. He just had to control himself, which should be easy since he’s had a year’s worth of practice controlling himself around her.

It was a lot easier to do that when he wasn’t kissing her.

Because then she kissed back, which just made him kiss harder. And then her hands started to touch him, which made his hands reciprocate. And then she started making those noises, those small little sighs and moans, and he was fucking lost. His hands went to her hips, those delicious hips that were now all his, and lifted her up easily onto his back seat, putting her at eye level, and more importantly, mouth level, with him. In the transition about a centimeter of space was created between them; a tragedy, one quickly corrected by Arya pulling his mouth back to hers.

His hands had a mind of their own at this point, reaching out and grabbing that round ass of hers and pulling her as far forward as he could, her elevated height like the last piece of a puzzle, allowing his length to slot easily up against her covered core. The friction had them both groaning, causing her hips to start that damned gyrating motion that almost made him give in, to say fuck it and just fuck her right here, right now. And the exact same thought came to his mind to help calm down the lust fueled monster he had one again become.

_I don’t have any fucking condoms._

That thought was a like a bucket of cold water, finally making him pull back from the siren in his arms. “Fuck.” He groaned, eyes closed, trying to will his blood back under control. “So…?” He responded, once his brain had finally steered him out of his lust fueled storm

Only to be met with a sight that almost sent him over board. Arya was panting, chest heaving which he tried, and failed, to not stare at. Her eyes were wide, staring at him like he was the answer to a question she’s been struggling with all her life, like he was the last life vest on a sinking ship, like he was a better man than he knew he was. And those eyes, that look so much like his own, those pewter grey eyes that almost looked like god damn charcoal with the amount of hunger she was studying him with. A darkness that he had no doubt was mirrored in his own gaze. Her arms remained tight around his neck, making sure the distance between them stayed exactly where she wanted it to be, which conveniently was exactly the same amount of space he wanted; none. But then her legs, which were resting on either side of his hips due to his proximity, tightened slightly around him, making his breath labor just a tad and the weak grip he had on his self control slip even further.

She was in danger, he knew this, had dealt with it enough in his life to recognize the signs. Only this wasn’t a threat of violence, he would never hurt her; he’d slit his own throat before even thinking of harming her. This was much simpler, much more primal. Arya couldn’t have known what she was playing with, the cliff edge she was slowly pushing him over that would promise no chance of rescue. Or maybe she did, maybe she knew exactly what he was fighting with and wanted him to lose, to give in. Or maybe she was in a war of her own.

Suddenly her face brightened, mouthing popping into an ‘O’ – an image he had no doubt would make a frequent reappearance in his dreams – before an amused grin spread over her face. “You almost made me forget what I was gonna say!”

“Oops.” Sandor shrugged, her levity acting as the life raft back to sanity, leaning in to steal another kiss despite his best judgment.

Which she allowed, and a few more on top of that.

“As I was saying before I was so pleasantly interrupted,” Arya grinned, arms still resting on his shoulders. “What do we do now?”

Sandor groaned, images coming unwillingly to his mind of exactly what the two of them could do. “Fuck, don’t ask me women. You’re the one with the list.”

“Well, if we go by the list, then next would be bowling. There’s a place not far from here called Galaxy Lane.”

Sandor snorted. “You have that list memorized?”

“I have read and re-read it at least 100 times, Sandor. And most of that was this morning when I was waiting at my door for you.”

Sandor raised his good brow. They had agreed on 9am, and he wasn’t one to be late. “I was on time.” Actually, he was pretty sure he was early.

“Yes you were, I was just ready a tad too early. At least 2 hours early.” Arya grinned. “You could say I was a little eager.”

He had to kiss her for that, it would have been physically impossible for him not to.

“So…” Arya started once his lips had finally released hers. “Bowling sound okay with you?” Sandor nodded, stepping away to free her from the prison of his arms. She jumped down, closing the door behind her, before walking right up and taking his hand in hers. “You know, the place is actually pretty close.”

“Aye?”

“Yeah, we could walk there! And there’s a park we can go through on the way!” Arya explained, already tugging him down onto the sidewalk and away from his truck.

“That just means we’ll have to walk back.” Sandor groaned, following along anyway.

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you if you get tired.” Arya sassed, making Sandor chuckle.

The park ended up being pretty close, at most a few blocks away from where he was parked, and gave them a good answer to where all the kids that should have been in the arcade had gone. Packs of children were spread all throughout the grounds, some under the watchful eye of their parents, others whose only supervision came from their fellow kids, all running around and just generally having a good time the way kids do; being loud as hell. Which would normally have annoyed the shit out of him, but it might as well have been white noise for all the notice he gave it, his attention being focused entirely on the little minx that he had his arm around.

Said minx leaned her head against him, sighing contently under the canopy of his arm. “This has been a pretty great first date.”

“Aye?” Sandor asked.

“Yeah, way better than any other I’ve been on.”

Sandor frowned. “How many have you had?”

“Sandor Clegane! Is that jealousy I detect?” She grinned up at him, grinning harder when he pulled her as tight against his side as possible and growled.

“You bet your sweet ass it is.”

“That saying never made sense to me, how can an ass even be sweet?”

_I could taste yours and find out._ Sandor thought, internally cringing at his own thoughts and thanking the gods above he hadn’t said it out loud.

A premature gesture, if Arya’s sputtering laughter was anything to go by. Sandor groaned, covering his face with his hand. “Fuck, did I really just say that out loud?” He asked, already knowing the answer but hoping she’d just deny it so he could at least pretend to not be as big a fuck up as he was. Not that he didn’t mean what he said, many-a-fantasies he’s had over the years would object if he ever tried to pretend he didn’t want to do exactly that with her, but when he was trying to keep his raging libido under control, it wasn’t exactly the smartest mental image to start picturing.

“Yup.” Arya laughed, dashing his hopes. She pressed her face into his side, attempting to muffle the rest of the laughter a line like that deserved. After a moment she lifted her head and smiled at him, a flush on her cheeks. “Smooth~.” She giggled, eyes taking on a hint of the darkness they had held in his back seat, before biting her bottom lip. Showing she just had the exact same mental image. And liked it.

_Fuck!_

“So, how many am I competing with?” Sandor asked, averting his eyes from this personified attack on his self-control as he attempted to steer the conversation towards more family friendly topics. And away from any more situations where his apparently nonexistent flirting skills could make themselves known.

“Oh, I’d say no more than… 10? 20? You lose track after a point, you know?”

Sandor coughed into his hand to hid his grimace.

_Fuck, she dated that many? She said it pretty damn casually, is that a typical amount for people now-a-days? No question she’s got more experience then I do, could count on one hand the amount of serious relationships I’ve had. And I’d still have 4 fingers to spare._

_20 fucking dates I’m competing with here, and all I can say we’ve done is shove our tongue down each other’s throats._

_Which was fucking awesome. But not exactly a date you write home to your parents about. Fuck, if it wasn’t for her list, I’d have taken us right back to town. Wouldn’t that have been a shit date? But what—_

“I can hear you thinking.” Arya spoke over his thoughts, squeezing his hand to bring him back. “And I was kidding.”

“Uh, right.” Sandor grunted, not sure which part she was referring too and not really sure he wanted to ask.

“I’ve only dated, like, 4 guys and most were in college.” Arya went on to clarify. “And none of them took me to a car show, so you already got about a thousand points over them. So stop worrying, I’m having a great time.”

“Right.” Sandor repeated like a parrot, mostly believing her but there was still that small voice in the back of his head that said he was doing something wrong, that he didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve her.

They fell back into a familiar silence; one most people wouldn’t expect a chatterbox like Arya to be able to maintain. Not that she was ever the one to imitate it, she could happily talk until she was 6 feet under. No, she did it for him. Because he was the exact opposite when it came to this regard, he could stay silent for an entire week and he’d sleep on Sunday a happy boy. Not that he hated talking in its entirety, especially not when it’s with Arya, but most of the time he just doesn’t see the need for it. Doesn’t help growing up the way he had, you don’t get a lot of chances to flex your conversational skills when your face look like road kill, but he’s not sure he would have ever been talkative even if his brother had been a normal person. He’s a man of few words, preferring to listen and observe rather than voice his thoughts.

They really were the epitome of “opposites attract”. He’s large, she’s small, he’s quiet, she’s loud, he’s sullen and crude, she’s bright and boisterous, he’s ugly as sin, she’s gorgeous as hell. And he couldn’t wrap his head around _how_. How had they become friends, best friends, and now lovers? How had he managed to make a woman like her settle for a blight like him? And how the hell could those idiots from college possibly have let her go?

He could never, he knew this like it was tattooed on his soul. If this relationship would happen to end – a thought that made his heart clench – either she would end it or he’d be dead. An idea she’d no doubt object to him even thinking, both her wanting to leave him and him dying. But there was nothing to be done about it, his life had never given him cause to believe that he could be happy for very long before something happened to ruin it.

And _fuck_ if he didn’t fear he had done exactly that when he damn near screamed at her. When she asked why he hadn’t asked her out sooner, it was like a movie marathon started playing in his head. All the times he tried to ignore his scars, to talk to people like they weren’t even there, and only won himself pain for the trouble. There was an anger that had cultivated within his heart; an anger at his brother, at his father, at the people that avoid his eyes, at the people that laugh behind his back, at the woman who cringe away from him or laugh when he tries to talk to them – as if he’s not even human, like he doesn’t deserve companionship, at the mothers who whisper to their kids “ _don’t go near him”_ , at life in general and the hand it dealt him.

But not at Arya, she never made him feel like that, she never looked at him like he was anything less, like he was something to be feared or laughed at. If anything, his time with Arya was the only time in his life where he felt that anger lessen, like a fire with no oxygen, just slowly dying on its own.

But not entirely.

Then she had insisted that not everyone treated him that way. Which was true, and if he was of his right mind he would have nodded and agreed and they would have moved on. But he wasn’t, somehow that innocent little question had pried at the anger just enough to give the dying fire all the fuel it needed to flare up, to cloud his vision, to turn her insistence into a dismissal; a dismissal of the pain he’d suffered from because of his scar. Suddenly his anger had a target, a person he could use as an outlet to try and rid himself of all this pain, all this cruelty. And the target was the one person who didn’t deserve it.

She had forgiven him, far faster than she should have in his opinion, but he saw it. For just a moment, a fraction of a second, there was legitimate fear in her eyes, and it was put there entirely because of him. And it made him sick to his stomach. She would deny it if he asked, she probably didn’t even feel it long enough to recognize it, but he knew what he saw. He’s been on the receiving end of such fear many times before, but never before had it ripped at his heart like it did now. It’s an image that will forever be burned into his mind, something he’ll never let himself forget, and it’ll act as a promise. A promise to never do it again, to never give Arya cause to fear him in any way, shape, or form.

Which just makes him feel worse, because what type of good man has to even consciously make that type of promise? An awful man, a terrible man, a man who isn’t good; a man like Sandor. But he can at least try to be better, if nothing else then it’s what Arya deserves. Well, closer to what she deserves, since she deserves the fucking world.

She also deserves another apology.

“I’m sorry.” Sandor spoke clearly and firmly, as they exited the park.

“Apologizing for a great date? You are a strange man, Sand—”

“Not that.” Sandor interrupted gently. “I mean for what I said back at the mini golf place.”

Arya sighed from beneath his arm. “I already told you, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I shouldn’t have been fucking yelling in the first place, no matter my excuse. And I won’t do that again, you have my word. You shouldn’t have to be with a man who scares you.” Sandor apologized quickly, so she couldn’t try and jump in to stop him.

“What?” Arya pulled them to a stop, looking up at him in shock. “Sandor, you don’t, and _didn’t_ scare me.”

“I might not scare you normally,” Sandor accepted, hands framing her face. “But I saw your face; there was a moment when you were scared of me. And I promise I won’t do that to you again.”

Arya face scrunched in confusion, grabbing his arms and wrapping them around her. “I wasn’t scared, I was just… surprised, yeah that’s it! You just surprised me.” She declared, attempting to smile comfortingly at him. “You know, like when you’re watching a movie and there’s a random jump scare; you aren’t actually scared, it just shocks you. That’s what you did, I’m not used to you raising your voice is all.”

“Either way, I won’t do that again.”

“People get angry Sandor, sometimes they yell, I’m a big girl I can handle some yelling. Just ask my parents.”

Sandor sighed. He knew she’d fight him on this, no matter how much he deserved the blame. Whether she agrees or not, he made the promise and he doesn’t go back on his word.

“Sandor, I seriously wasn’t upset by it. It actually… kinda made me happy… I guess… to hear you get mad.”

Now it was Sandor’s turn to scrunch his brow in confusion. “Why the hell would that make you happy?”

“Well it’s just… I’ve just seen you act so indifferent to how people treat you, almost like you agreed with them or something, and I just hated that you might actually believe the bullshit people say.” She punctuated her statement with a kiss. “So when you got mad, I was kinda just like ‘phew, he still gets hurt by it all, so that means he doesn’t agree with them’.” Then her face crumbled into guilt and she looked at him like _she_ had done something wrong. “Which is pretty shitty isn’t it? To be glad you got your feelings hurt?”

Sandor blinked, struggling to catch up with the leaps this woman’s mind makes. “Uh… no?”

“How can it not be? What type of girlfriend is glad her boyfriend’s feelings got hurt?”

“What type of girlfriend is happy when her boyfriend yells at her?”

“That’s different! I wasn’t happy you yelled, just happy you still cared!”

“Which means you weren’t actually happy I was hurt. So you don’t have anything to feel guilty about.”

“Neither do you.”

“Yes I do.”

“Then so do I!”

Sandor groaned. Gods, this woman can be stubborn when she wants to be. Part of her charm. “Fine, compromise. We can both feel guilty, and we can both work to make it up to the other.” Which was stupid, she had absolutely nothing to make up for, but he knew she would never let it go, especially if she knew he was still beating himself up for a slight she deemed non-existent.

“Deal.” She declared, leaning up on her toes to mark the agreement with a kiss, before pulling him back into motion. “Now come on, we’re losing precious day light here and I wanna get to the bowling alley before its full!”

* * *

She had kicked them into high gear not a moment too soon it seemed, as they had made it to the bowling center right when there was a single alley remaining. Sandor slapped his wallet on the counter before Arya could even blink, smirking when she stuck her tongue out at him in comeuppance.

“Shoe sizes?” The man behind the counter asked.

“8.” Arya answered. The man quickly turned around and handed her the shoes.

“15.” Sandor rasped, making the man frown.

“Damn, let me check and see if we have those.” The man grunted, moving into a nearby back room.

“Wow, first mini golf and now bowling. I had no idea being tall was such a burden.” Arya smiled.

“Discrimination is what it is.” Sandor grumbled. “You shorties took over and built everything to slight us normal folk.”

“Wow, you got us.” Arya fake surrendered, one reasonable sized shoe in each hand. “But I object to your idea of ‘normal’. I’d say those below 6 foot outnumber those above, wouldn’t we be the normal ones?”

“Are you trying to group yourself with the normal folk?”

“I’ll have you know, the average height is 5 foot 9. So I’m only 8 inches shorter than average, well within normal range.”

“I’m only 9 inches taller, wouldn’t that put me in the normal range?”

“Nope, that last inch disqualifies you. You live solely in the realm of the giants.”

“Damn.”

“Aw, it’s okay. I’ll still love you, and all your towering glory.”

“Be still my beating heart.”

“Found one.” The cashier returned, titan-friendly shoes in hand. “Pretty sure these are our only pair, too.” He said as he offered Sandor the shoes.

Sandor nodded his thanks, taking the offered foot wear and walking towards their lane. Arya followed slowly, her eyes and hands focused on the rows of bowling balls available for them to use. By the time he had gotten to the machine and had entered both their names, she had vanished. Sandor eyes darted around the place, scanning all the faces in the search for her. He tried not to panic, but found that that was harder said than done.

They were in a place neither one of them knew well, and she was alone. Anything could have happened to her. She might say she can handle herself, and in a verbal match Sandor has no doubt that was true, but if some asshole was strong and tried to manhandle her or, and he shuddered to even think about of it, _kidnap_ her, there was very little she would be able to do. The image of Arya, struggling against her assailant, sent a bolt of fear right to his heart.

Shoes forgotten in his seat, he quickly ran back to where he last saw her, her name on the tip of his tongue ready to be shouted out over the constant noise of balls hitting pins when he spotted her, crouched low to the ground far on the other side of the building, scouting the balls on offer with the face of a chess prodigy backed into a corner.

Panic bled out of him only to be replaced with confused bemusement, taking deep breaths to calm his raging heart as he walked to stand over her. “What are you doing?”

“Sandor, please.” Arya held up her hand, eyes flicking between two bowling balls, one green and the other orange. “I am making a very serious decision here.”

“Ah.” Sandor nodded, a smile growing on his face. “And that serious decision is…?”

“I must find the perfect ball. The one that will speak for me.” Arya spoke, an air of mysticism in her words. “Bowling is like a conversation, one between you and the pins.”

“Uh huh.”

“But they don’t speak our language, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“So we need translators, which is where the balls come in to play. They are our interpreters, our guides to the bowling world.”

“Right.”

“But not all balls are created equal you see, some are heavier, some are lighter, some have scratches and dings, some are perfectly unblemished. Each ball is unique, and each person will have that one perfect ball that will sing only for them, that will act as the direct line between their heart and the pins.”

“Makes sense.”

“So I have to figure out which ball is mine, which one was made for me. I’ve narrowed it down to these two, but I can’t decide which one fits me best.”

“You don’t know which color to choose, do you?”

“No.” Arya deflated, mysticism flowing out like a popped balloon. “I like green, but this green is a little too… snot like for me. But~ I’ve never been a big fan of orange, so…”

Sandor snorted, leaning down to pat her on the shoulder. “This is a tough decision.”

“I thank you for your support in this trying time.” Arya turned her head to him, trying to go for a serious face but Sandor could see her visibly fighting a smile. Which just made his grow even bigger.

Sandor scanned the other balls on display, quickly looking for the biggest one on offer and grabbing it. “Found mine.”

“No fair, you just chose the biggest one.” Arya pouted, a pout he had to kiss.

“Benefits of being a giant.” Sandor informed her.

“Easy bowling ball choices?”

“That _was_ on the pamphlet.”

Arya laughed, returning her eyes to the two bowling balls she had apparently deemed the only worthy options available. Her face scrunched in concentration, hand reaching towards and retracting from one or the other repeatedly. Finally, after what seemed like an internal civil war, she grabbed the green one and damn near sprinted over to their alley, almost like she was running away from any regrets she might have had.

“Should I expect to be stomped again?” Sandor asked once they had returned to their seats and fastened on his shoes, as Arya spun her ball in her lap.

“Oh yeah, _creamed_. Watch and learn mister, I’ll have you begging for mercy before we hit frame 3.”

* * *

Her claims were a bit exaggerated, in the sense she couldn’t seem to hit more then three pins no matter how she threw it. Her score at the end was a resounding 36, just shy of his own 97. Not that either one of them even payed attention to the score, they were much too focused on poking and prodding the other while they tried to bowl, their taunts and cheers loud enough to drown out the other patrons, earning them a few glares in the process.

“Creamed.” Sandor repeated with a chuckled once he saw the score, shaking his head as he untied his shoes.

“Yeah yeah yeah, laugh it up big man.” Arya said, bowling shoes already off and regular shoes fastened back in place. “I might not get a lot of points, but I’m consistent. In team bowling, people would be fighting in the streets to sign me.”

“What the fuck is team bowling?”

“It doesn’t exist yet. But once it does, I’ll be signed on to a pro team. And you’ll be wearing my jersey so everyone in town will know you’re mine.”

Hers. He’s hers. It’s a heady feeling, to have someone be so open in their claiming of you, to know they want you and are fucking proud to let others know it. He’s never had it before Arya, and he knows it’ll take a long time before he’s really used to it. A long time for him to hear it and not smile like he was now.

“Aye, that I am.”

“And don’t you forget it.” She commanded, echoing his own command from earlier in the day as she leaned over to seal it with a kiss. She grabbed her shoes and her ball and went to return it from whence it came, but Sandor didn’t follow. He just sat and watched this anomaly of a woman. This woman who had looked at him and seen something that apparently no one else ever had, even himself. Who had fallen for him before she even knew him, so it’s not like he can even say she was ignoring the scars. No, she saw the scars and still wanted him.

A rarity of an existence, Arya was. One the gods above would never be able to replicate; one he knew he’d never find again. He has one chance at real happiness here, with her. Which means he needs this date to go well, if he has any hope of there being a second. What the hell they’d do on a second date, he has no idea, and he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. All he knows is he needs to end this date on a bang, something that won’t make her regret giving him a chance. And he’s quickly running out of time to figure out what that ‘something’ would be. He still has some time, they at least need to eat dinner still before they actually leave. Which was another thing he had no idea what to do about, him and Smith had only talked about lunch, neither one of them even entertained the idea of the day expanding beyond that, let alone stretching to dinner. He had a lot to think about, and not a lot of time. He didn’t even know if Arya’s list had any dinner plans on it, so he might not even have that to—

“Hey, Sandor.” Arya called out to him from the shoe counter, pulling him from his musings and making him turn to her. “I’m pretty hungry, wanna just order something to eat here?”

“Uh.” Sandor started. “Sure.”

“Great.” She smiled. “I’m getting a big bucket of fries, what do you want?”

“Uh, same.”

“Cool.” She turned back to the counter to order, leaving Sandor stunned where he sat.

By the time she came back, arms ladened with fries, Sandor was still just staring at her, which she raised an eyebrow at as she deposited his bucket of fries in front of him. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Sandor shook his head and laughed under his breath. Leave it to Arya to surprise him yet again with her nonchalance about this whole thing. What he wouldn’t give to have that confidence. “Surprised you wanted to eat here.”

“There’s nothing like some greasy food after a good game of bowling.” She explained happily, mouth already full of fries. “The only thing better is some popcorn, but we’ll have to settle for fries.

Like a light switch being flipped, suddenly the idea came to his mind. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Sandor pulled out his phone, a wild grin on his face, as he searched the surrounding area and prayed that they hadn’t all died out like they had back in LA.

_Jackpot!_ There’s a place not too far from Seattle, about 20 minutes out from the city. And it seemed to be the only one within a 50 mile radius, which made him sigh sadly. He used to love those places when he was younger, they were the perfect place to be alone where he knew no one would bother him. But that didn’t matter, what mattered is that he finally found the perfect place to end this date. A place he was confident no date of hers could have possibly taken her to before. A real bang.

* * *

“Where did you say we were going again?” Arya asked, roughly 5 minutes out from their destination by Sandor’s estimate.

Sandor chuckled. “I didn’t.”

“Right, well if you were to have said where we were going, what would that have sounded like?” Arya continued her prodding unabated by his evasive answers.

“Impatient.”

“I think we’re both a bit too patient for our own good.”

Sandor couldn’t disagree with her there. Didn’t mean he was going to tell her though, it was supposed to be a surprise and it was going to stay that way no matter how many fishing attempts she made. And there were a lot, at least once she saw they were leaving Seattle in the exact opposite direction of Winterwood. Then the investigation began.

Her questions started out easy enough to dodge, simple “where are we going?” and “what the place’s name?”. But then she got clever, started asking about what she would need to wear, whether it would be inside or outside, how long they would be there. He almost answered that last one, it was about 7pm and was already dark, so it would make sense for her to start wondering when they were actually going to hit the road to go home. But that wasn’t why she was asking, and he realized it just in time to clam up.

“So… what would it take for you to tell me?”

“You waiting.”

“Can’t do that, what else?”

“Nothing else.”

“It’s sexual favors isn’t it?”

“What?”

“You want sexual favors in return for answers. You drive a hard bargain sir.” Arya snorted quietly. “Pun unintentionally intended.”

Sandor chuckled. “Wow, that was awful.”

“As awful as you are for extracting sexual favors from an innocent woman such as me.”

“I don’t remember extracting anything, it seems to me like these said favors are being offered.”

“Are you trying to say _I’m_ the awful one?”

“Aye, corrupting little thing you are.”

“It’s true, you were so innocent before we met.”

“A goddamn boy scout.”

“Then think of these favors as an apology. Two birds, one stone. Or I guess in this case; one hand, two—”

“We’re here.” Sandor announced suddenly, turning off the highway seemingly randomly onto a dark road. The proclamation was a tad early, based off his memory of the map this road continued for a bit longer then usual before they really reached their destination.

“Uh, where is here exactly?” Arya glanced at him in bewilderment, looking around at the surrounding trees. “If you wanted to kill me, this would be the perfect spot, I’ll give you that. But I’m about 99% sure you don’t want to do that. Then again, that would be one hell of a long game. It might even be a record, once the cops catch you, you should ask. Then they can post your mugshot up in the crime hall of fame: ‘Longest Long Game’” She announced dramatically, using her hand to emphasize each word of the title. “Maybe they’ll even post me up there as well, like the ‘Longest Long Game Victim’. Ooh, I wonder if there would be a trophy. If there is, I demand they bury me with mine, I earned it and I’ll have it with me in the afterlife. They probably won’t let you take it to prison though, unless you hid it in a place they wouldn’t search. I’ve heard about some strange stuff being smuggled into prisons like that. Like once I heard—”

“Okay, now we’re really here.” Sandor cut her off before she could get too in depth on her knowledge of prison smuggling, gesturing with his hand to a nearby sign hanging from the nearby booth. It was a wooden booth, with various information posted on the glass and a sleepy looking old woman leaning back in her chair within it. The booth was flanked on either side by thick metal fencing, to prevent people from entering without the required payment.

Arya followed his gesture, craning her neck to read it. “ _Howdy Partner_ … is that what it’s called?”

“Bit to the left.”

Arya’s eyes followed his instructions, landing on the sign attached to the roof of the small booth before reading it slowly. “Wheel-in… Motor… Movie?” She blinked. “Uh, okay. What is that?”

Sandor eyes widened in shock, a gasp of outrage escaping before he could stop it. “No way, your folks never took you to one of these?”

She tilted her head in thought. “Uh, I don’t know. I’d have to know what this is to answer that.”

“It’s a drive in.” Sandor said slowly, hoping to jog any memories at all, if nothing else then to stop himself from feeling as ancient as her confusion was making him.

“A drive in? Drive in to what?” Arya asked, and Sandor could feel the years collecting on his shoulders. Suddenly her eyes widened in recognition, albeit weak. “Wait, I think I’ve heard of it before. I’m not sure where, my parents might have talked about them once. You used to watch movies here, right?”

Sandor sighed, feeling at least some of the years leaving the perch on his shoulders. Not all of them mind you, the fact her frame of reference came from her parents, who were not exactly young, didn’t escape his notice. “Yup, change your radio to the right station and it’s just like being in a movie theater.” Sandor explained the intricacies of the drive in process as he paid for their ticket. He didn’t really pay attention to what movie was being played, since the actual content of the movie didn’t matter. He wanted to give Arya a unique experience, and based off her comments so far, he was doing a pretty good job.

“And we just sit in the car?”

“In the car, on top of it, in a chair next to it. Doesn’t really matter, as long as you can hear it.”

Tickets in hand, Sandor drove them closer to the screen and looked out amongst the nonexistent crowd of cars. He sighed wistfully, remembering a bygone era. The place wasn’t empty, there was a few cars scattered here or there, but nothing like the crowd he used to see. If only he could take Arya back in time, to show her exactly what was so special about this place and what made him have such a soft spot for them.

Drive ins used to be his home away from home. Hell, there was time he considered them better than his actual home. It was a rare summer day when he didn’t find himself staring up at that silver screen, enjoying the privacy the darkness provided. It was one of the few places where he could pretend that he was just a normal kid; he wasn’t Sandor Clegane, a boy whose face not even a mother could love, no he was just a regular boy like all the others, watching a movie on a summer night.

There was one in particular he spent the majority of his time at. The owner was some old man who didn’t much care what Sandor did, as long as he didn’t break shit. Eventually he figured, since Sandor was always around anyway, he might as well help clean up the place. Which is how he wound up getting his first job. He liked to think getting a real honest job, even it if was technically under the table, was his first step to not being like the other fuck ups in his family. He wished he could remember that old guys name, might try and look him up and thank him. If he was even still alive, which Sandor doubted.

“Bride of Frankenstein.” Arya’s voice cut into his reminiscing.

“What?” Sandor asked as he back the truck into the spot with the best viewing angle.

“Bride of Frankenstein, it’s the movie we’re seeing.” Arya explained, holding their tickets.

Sandor snorted as he fiddled with his radio till it sat on the correct station. “How apt.”

Arya frowned. “You aren’t Frankenstein.”

“Fuckin’ close enough.” Sandor said as he stepped out of the car.

“Where are you going?” Arya asked as she leaned over the center console.

“To our seats.”

Arya looked around at the empty field. “Uh, I thought you said we watched it in the car?”

“Just follow me.”

Arya sighed with mock exasperation as she followed his lead. “Again, with your mysteries.”

“Gotta keep you interested somehow.” Sandor shrugged as he lowered the tail of his truck and climbed in. He opened his back window to ensure they could hear the radio before reaching into the back seat and grabbing the thermal blanket he thankfully still kept around. It’s not exactly the warmest thing but right now he’s just glad he got something for them to sit on that isn’t the dirty metal floor of his truck.

After tossing the rest of the junk that called the back of his truck home into his back seat, he laid the blanket out and sat down, leaning back against the window and looking down to see an amused Arya.

Arya knocked on the siding. “Excuse me sir.” She said, a mask of innocence covering her face. “Do you think I could join you?”

Sandor hummed deeply, not missing the way her eyes darkened at his tone. “I don’t know, not a lot of room up here.”

“Oh please sir.” Arya pleaded, hands tucked under her chin as she gave him the strongest fucking puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. Which kind of worried him, cause he’s not sure if he’ll be able to deny her anything if she looks at him like that. “May I please join you?”

Sandor looked her up and down, taking his sweet time to just look at this gorgeous creature he got to call his girlfriend. “Alright, on one condition.”

“Anything sir.” Her plea continued as she scrambled into the truck bed. She was still about an arm’s length away, sitting on her knees and leaning forward just enough to give him a tantalizing view of her cleavage. “I’ll do anything.”

_Jesus Fucking Christ_. Sandor had to close his eyes to try and combat the myriad of fantasies the combination of her pose and that sentence just spawned in his head.

It didn’t work, but at least he tried.

“You gotta squeeze in real close to me.” Sandor rasped, patting the spot right next to him before lifting his arm. “Might get a pit… personal.”

She nodded and bit her lip before she started crawling towards him. Which was the exact opposite image he needed to see if he wanted to keep his rebelling erection under control. He shifted slightly, hoping to ignore it so he could try and make this movie watching experience a bit more PG.

She followed his word to the letter, sitting down in the spot indicated and wrapped her arms around him before wiggling herself as close to him as she seemingly could (the feeling of her breast rubbing against him not doing anything to help calm lil’ Clegane down). Once she settled, his arm came down and wrapped itself around her, squeezing her a little himself, making her sigh in contentment before looking up at him. “I like personal.”

Sandor growled quietly, leaning down to steal himself a kiss. One she stole right back.

The movie started soon after that. Arya looking back and forth between the radio and the screen to marvel at the novelty of it, but Sandor didn’t pay much attention to the movie itself; he simply couldn’t stop himself from watching Arya. He loved seeing all the emotions play out on her face as she reacted to the events of the film, the shock, the laughter, the suspense, the sadness. Each little emotion morphing her face this way or that, but they all had one thing in common; it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And he still couldn’t believe that this was real, that he wasn’t dreaming _again_ and he wasn’t going to just wake up in his bed at home with a broken heart.

She must have felt his eyes on her, as she turned to meet his gaze, smiling up at him as if she could read his thoughts, as if she knew what he was afraid of and was trying to free him of his fear. And he had to kiss her, to really drive home to himself that this was fucking real, that she was really here and he wasn’t alone.

It started chaste enough, just enough force to act as a reality check. But then her tongue snaked out and ran itself over his lips. Then it escalated, their lips moving with a sense of urgency as their tongues danced. One of her hands had roamed to his hair, running her fingers through it as the other one caressed his chest, no doubt feeling the rapid thumping of his heart. His hand, that had before rested on her hip, had moved southward to get a firm grip of her ass, his other hand grabbing the her far leg and dragging it over his own. She took the hint, quickly straddling him so his hands could get better access to her body.

Sandor’s hands went back to their favorite spot, each getting a firm grip on her bottom as he pulled her forward so she could feel exactly what she was doing to him. And feel it she did, her breathy gasp like music to his fucking ears and poison to any self control he was currently fighting to maintain. They were back on that cliff edge again, and one wrong move on either of their parts would send them careening over, never to return. Thought he’s not sure he would even want to return if he could. It was when her hands roamed down under his shirt, her soft hands caressing the fur on his chest like it was the most fascinating thing in the world, that he finally pulled himself off of her and had to repeat to himself the same thing he’s had to the last hundred fucking times this has happened.

_I don’t have any fucking condoms._

Or he thought he was going to repeat it to himself, but her quiet gasp and widening eyes made him realize that his reminder had come out loud and clear. He didn’t have time to feel embarrassed or frustrated with his inability to control his own body, as she leaned forward and kissed him far gentler than they had been before, before whispering against his lips. “That’s okay, I’m on the pill.” She leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, biting her lips in anticipation for his response.

Sandor eyes were blown wide, staring at her in shock at what she just implied. She couldn’t want to, not with him, not so soon. They had just started dating that day! But her motions said otherwise, her hips starting back that accursed movement that told him exactly what she wanted, and with who she wanted it with.

But there was still one problem, one issue he refused to budge on no matter how delicious this friction felt or the heat he could feel on his member through her thin leggings or the way her ass felt in his hands.

“I’m not fucking you in my car.” Sandor growled, mostly in frustration at how he fucking wished he could. Cause he wants this woman bad, he’s not sure he’s ever had his blood up this high and he’s a little worried what it’ll take to come back down. But he refuses to have their first time be anywhere less than a fucking bed.

“Well…” Arya started, glancing away with a sheepish look on her face. “Sansa and I, and by that I mean Sansa ‘cause I thought it was stupid to write it down but she said it was better to be safe than sorry and I guess she was right, included on the list… a hotel.” Her eyes returned to his. “If you want to, that is.”

That did it. She had jumped over the cliff and dragged him with her. Any hopes he had to denying what they both so obviously wanted were shot. He didn’t answer her, gripping the back of her head and pulling her mouth back to his. Their kiss was much hungrier, no more hesitation or holding back. They both knew what they wanted, and they knew the other wanted it to. Arya pressed herself to him, her soft and supple body feeling like silk against the hard plains of his chest. His other hand refused to lose it vigil on her ass, squeezing it hard enough it would probably bruise in the morning but she made no complaints.

He pulled her away, pressing his forehead against hers and panting, her dark eyes mirroring his own. “Get in the truck.” Sandor growled as lowly as he could.

Arya’s only response was a frantic nod before she scrambled out the bed of the truck, movie forgotten.

* * *

The drive back into the city felt twice as long as the drive out. That was probably helped by the fact they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, Arya’s hand reaching out and gently stroking his thigh so dangerously close to his groin he could feel the heat of it on his dick. And it was a good thing he was used to driving with just one hand, as his right hand had stayed on Arya’s hip and refused to come off, roaming every now and then to her waist or to brush against the underside of her breast, or roaming the opposite direction to again grope her backside (he has a problem) before returning to it’s home base.

Once they had finally made it to the hotel, after he had hit what felt like every red light in the city, he walked right up to the front counter and slapped his wallet on the counter. “One room for the night.”

“Certainly sir.” The concierge chirped, eyes glancing at Arya as she stood with an arm wrapped around his waist. “Will that be two beds or –”

“One.” They both said at the same time.

“Of course.” The concierge nodded, grabbing his card and doing whatever the fuck they do on their computer, before returning his wallet and handing him two key cards. “We hope you enjoy your stay at—”

They didn’t wait to listen to the spiel. They walked quickly to the elevator, hands still touching one another but doing their best to keep it innocent while here in public. They stepped onto a blessedly empty elevator, and when the door closed with no one joining them, they were on each other in a flash. Their kiss was desperate, hungry, both so close to what they’ve wanted for so long yet it had never felt so far. Arya jumped on him, wrapping her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, as her tongue battled with his. Sandor held her by one forearm under her bottom, the other hand gripped firmly in her hair.

When the elevator dinged, and he pulled away just long enough to see they had reached their floor, he pulled her lips back to his and slowly made his way down the hall towards their room. It was slow going, trying to walk and hold a wild nymph whose hands wouldn’t sit still in his arms, but he eventually made it (after pressing her up against the wall at least 5 times to kiss her senseless). He pressed her against the door, grinding his length against the junction of her thighs and swallowing all her moans as he fumbled to get the key card out of his pocket.

He pulled away from her lips just far enough for her to see both him and the key card, needing one like reassurance that this was what she wanted, that she wouldn’t regret this come sun rise. “Arya, are you sure about—”

He didn’t get to finish his question, as she got a good grip on his hair and pulled him back down to her lips, silencing any of more doubts he could have. He blindly aimed the keycard near where he figured the detector would be, eyes shut tight at the magical feel of her soft lips on his, and after three attempts he heard a wonderful sound. A sound that meant release, that meant connection, that meant they would finally be together in a way they had only dreamed about until today.

_*Click*_

Sandor pushed the door open, slamming it into the perpendicular wall as he fumbled his way inside, before kicking the door shut behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

The early morning sun rose over the emerald city, it’s glimmering rays shining down on the high-rise towers and the calm motion of Elliot Bay, the only disturbance to the waters being the rebounding light of the reflected sun. The light of dawn slowly washed over the city like the blinds of a window, exposing the transition of ownership that always occurred at dawn.

Late risers and night owls ruled the city in the absence of the sun’s presence, going about their business and making sure the city ran smoothly while those of the day slept. The police officers, the nurses, the doctors, the artists, the maintenance workers, and those of the seedier profession were the life of the city during this time, moving and flowing through the streets like blood within a heart. But, just like the moon must fall from the sky, so too must they return to their nest, to rest and recuperate until the moon shall once again make its return.

It’s with the presence of the sun that the early birds and daily commuters began to rise and start their daily lives. The suits, the florist, the window cleaners, the fast food workers, the chefs, the waitresses, and the rest of the work force of the city, moving within the streets like a well oiled machine. Most people of the day go almost completely unaware of any happenings that occurred while they slept, the light acting as a wall preventing them from seeing those that exist in when the sun does not rule.

But there is a time, a very small window of time, when those of the night and those of the day coexist. During the early light of dawn, when the sun has just started to rise but has yet to fully begin it’s arc, the people of the moon will be just starting to retreat from the surface while some of the people of the sun will be stepping out into the new born day. While the two worlds might coalesce, a rare opportunity for their people to walk amongst each other, the denizens rarely notice the transition. So caught up in their own stories, whose pages were either ending or just beginning, that they never stop to notice those living within the other world.

This is a transition mirrored within the Hotel Theodore itself, it’s workers reenacting the transference of ownership within it’s own halls. The concierge, bell hops, maids, and janitorial workers, all who were here as the sun went down, are now leaving as the sun comes up. And with their departure comes the return of the early morning crew.

Of this crew was Tim. He had been working at the Theodore for about a year now, learning the ins-and-outs of the building from his fellow maintenance workers. This morning he had a packed schedule, since he had the “honor”, as his manager coined it, of checking all the lights on the 9th floor. It was very important that every little thing in the hotel was in tip top shape, to help the customers have the best day they possibly could. Tim was pretty positive no faulty light had ever been the difference between him having a good day or not, but he kept that to himself.

Ladder under one arm, clipboard in the other, Tim rode up the elevator to his destination. While he dreaded the day ahead, expecting to find not a single light in need to work, a small part of him hoped that Vivi would be assigned that floor as well. Last time they talked they had hit it off, or at least he thought so, but he hadn’t been able to will up the courage to ask her out. A fact Bridget had no shame in reminding him of, since the fellow maintenance woman had unfortunately ended up being in earshot of his (quite obvious) attempts to flirt.

He stepped off on the 9th floor, shaking off his uncertain love life to focus on the task at hand. He glanced down at the list of rooms held on his clipboard. He had to check every room on the floor besides those currently holding guest, and he was supposed to check in with the front desk before coming up here so he could find out which rooms were occupied and which weren’t. Unfortunately, Casper was on desk last night, and Tim had no interest in being trapped in another one of his long winded ramble sessions. He’ll have to ask later, but that can wait until he’s done with the hallway.

And so began his day. It was as tedious a routine as he expected; set up ladder under light, climb up ladder, pull down light covering, check wiring, find nothing wrong, put covers back on, climb off ladder, pick up ladder, move 8 feet down the hallway, repeat.

As he set up his ladder for about the 10th time, he spotted out the corner of his eye something that made him pause. Sitting on the doorknob of room 923 was a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign. Tim sighed in relief, however small it was, and crossed the room off his list. Still about 98 others rooms he may or may not have to check, but any amount of work taken off his plate he would gladly take. With another light checked, and having yet to see a fault to work on, Tim picked up his ladder and continued his trek down the hallway.

On the other side of door 923, beyond the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, was a semi dark room. The curtains were left open the night before, which one of the occupants had intended to fix before their attentions were pulled towards more important subjects, which let just smallest amount of early morning light shine on the absolute disaster that the room had become.

All over the floor laid what seemed like the after effects of a department store explosion. Shirts and shoes and pants and under garments were seemingly spread randomly, as if the articles of clothing offended their owners and were thrown without a single ounce of care for where they ended up. And within the center of the maelstrom of cloth and fabric laid two figures who limbs were tangled like vines on a tree.

Of the figures was a small woman, a petite creature whose bombastic energy more than made up for her lack in stature. Arya Stark, a child of the north, was the first to wake, though her eyes remained closed. She attempted to move, to stretch as she was wont to do in the mornings, but was stopped dead in her tracks by an unfamiliar weight on her waist and legs. She opened her eyes in confusion, confusion that was made even worse by her inability to see anything, before her eyes adjusted to the low light of the dawn. But what she saw took her breath away.

Right in front of her was the face of her boss. The owner of _The Hound: Car Repair and Restoration Shop._ The man she had been hopelessly in love with since they met. The man who had filled her dreams and fantasies. Whose visage could strike fear into the heart of lesser women, but had gifted him a life of loneliness and hardship.

And they were both naked.

Her brain stalled, thinking this was once again one of those dreams the gods both blessed and cursed her to have. She had learned quite early that letting such dreams play out only promised more heartache when she eventually had to wake up, so she pinched herself immediately to end the cruel vision. But the vision didn’t leave, the face continuing to snore undisturbed by her attempt to rid herself of it.

Suddenly it all came back to her; car show, diner, finally confessing, mini golf, park, bowling, drive in, hotel. That last one made her smile, her mind running through the images of their night of passion, making her fight the urge to wake her bed companion up for a round three.

But instead she just watched him. Memorizing the sight of the man she loved in such a relaxed state, his face holding none of the stoicism he wears as an armor against the cruel eyes of the world. His beard was a mess, hairs sticking up this way and that from sleep and their vigorous love making. His mouth was slightly open, his deep snore vibrating through the bed right to her chest. She had never loved him more then she did right now.

This was exactly how she wanted to wake up for the rest of her life, wrapped in the arms of the man she loved, and his was the face she wanted to see first thing in the morning. She suspected she would feel this way, but it is nothing like experiencing it in reality. Being with him just makes sense, she can no longer see her life without him. She knew it was _very_ early to be thinking this, being as this was the second day of their relationship, but she couldn’t care less about that. She knew what she wanted, she had known since that fateful day she walked into his shop with nary a resume in sight, yesterday and this morning just confirmed it. She wanted to be his, in every definition of the word, and he be hers. He could propose right now, in this very bed, and she’d say yes in a heartbeat.

She leaned over and kissing him gently on the lips. A movement that finally woke Sandor Clegane to the world. He opened his eyes, being greeted with the sight of a smiling Arya, looking at him with unbridled love in her eyes, and he knew he was lost. This was a sight he would have paid millions of dollars to be greeted with. A sight he forever resigned himself to never seeing. A sight he would never grow tired of.

Her skin was so soft, like a warm sheet of velvet under his rough hands. A sheet he had explored religiously last night with all the tools he had at his disposal. And she fit so perfectly in his arms, he suspected the gods might have even built him in such a way to slot her in just so. It was all the same either way, as she was now the only woman he would ever want to hold again. He pulled her close, removing the slim amount of space that dared to exist between them.

“Good morning.” Arya said, voice low and rough from sleep and overuse. Overuse because of him, if her screams last night were any hint. A roughness he wanted to hear more of, as long as he was the cause.

“Morning.” He rasped in return, and she marveled at the way sleep made his voice even deeper, the gravel like timbre of his words she felt more then heard. It was as if his voice had vibrated right through her, skipping her heart and jumping right to her core. She tried to ignore the sudden lust the change had fueled in her, but judging by the squeeze of his hand on her waist she mustn’t have been successful.

Sandor wanted to pinch himself, but didn’t want to run any risk of getting taken away from the heaven that had become his life. This could be a coma and he’d say he’d never want to wake, not if she was what he’d be leaving. To have a woman want you was one thing, he had experienced a shallow like imitation of it in the past, but to have one want you just as bad in the morning, when the haze of the night or alcohol couldn’t soften the blow of his mug, he had never felt before in his life. Is this what it was like to be loved, to have someone accept you in all that you are? He wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but if this was what love was, he could no longer fault all those stupid love songs on the radio.

“So…” Sandor started, moving his fingers in a small circle on Arya’s gloriously naked body, of which he had spent many a moments of the night before marveling at the mere sight of. Though, in his mind, there was nothing ‘mere’ about her body. It was even greater than his imagination had painted it.

“So...?” Arya echoed, eyes scanning the gloriously sculpted chest before her, her mind playing back the memories of what it was like to be under, or on top, such a beast of a man. To have his arms on either side of her, trapping her in a prison she would never wish to be free of. To be in a world of just Sandor, her every sense filled with him, like he had become a part of her. It did nothing to stop her ever growing lust, though she knew that was a fight best lost.

“Did I pass the trial run?” Sandor asked, fighting to keep his face as stoic as possible but finding that basically impossible the moment Arya broke into a laugh.

“Yes.” Arya laughed, scooting closer to remove the small amount of space that dared to exist between them. “With flying colors.”

She marked the results with a kiss, a kiss he returned eagerly.

As their attentions turned to more intimate intentions, they didn’t think about the fact they wouldn’t be in town to open the shop. They didn’t think about Smith and the fact the car part he wanted them to pick up and bring back yesterday, the one that had spawned this wonderful trip, was still sitting in Sandor’s truck about 60 miles from its destination. They didn’t think about Arya’s phone, which had been getting an onslaught of calls and text from Sansa asking her where she was and what had happened to them. They didn’t think about how Arya’s family, or the town in general, would react to their relationship.

The only thing they thought about was each other. This impossible relationship, that was apparently only impossible to the two of them, had finally become reality. No more hiding their feelings, no more hidden glances, no more hopeless pining, no more lonely nights. Two lives had finally intertwined, after too long of hesitation, and they were eager to make up for lost time.

And as the dawn sun fully began to rise, as the small window of time where the people of the moon and the people of the sun coexist came to a close, as the lunar-folk begun to hunker down in their homes to rest, as the solar-folk began their commutes, as the final night shift worker at the Hotel Theodore left to get some much needed sleep, and as Tim the maintenance man ran into Vivi the housekeeper, Arya and Sandor indulged in their need for the other to mark the first morning of the rest of their lives.

They were fine like this.

No, they were more than fine.

They were happy.

And this time, they meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just like that, Trial Run is done! My first full length story is complete, and I must say I learned a lot about me and my own writing habits with this little adventure. I tried something a little different with this final chapter by going for a more omniscient point of view.
> 
> In terms of my future on this website; This will not be my last full length story, far from it my friends, though you might not see me for a while. 
> 
> I believe the next time you see a story from me, that isn't just a one shot, it will be fully written before I even post the first chapter. I find I am able to be more passionate about a story when I can stop writing it and move on to a new one, to let it rest for a bit, before returning to work on it again. But I don't want to do that for a story that I am posting publicly as I write it, as I don't like the idea of leaving my readers uncertain about the future of a story.
> 
> On that note, we must say goodbye to Arya and Sandor, or at least this iteration of them. They have found each other, after a long year of uncertainty, and are finally happy. What happens after this is up to your own interpretation, but our little window into their world has now closed.
> 
> And like this story, our time together, for now, has reached it's conclusion.


End file.
